


How To Love Again

by likeromeoandjuliet



Series: From Our Window [2]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: 3 years later because I don’t want them to wait 5, Canon Compliant, Eventually they’ll get back together that’s what I mean, F/M, Getting Back Together, I want my babies together so there
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:01:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 30,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23811985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likeromeoandjuliet/pseuds/likeromeoandjuliet
Summary: Sequel to ‘One Side of The Window’After saying their goodbyes, Jughead and Betty go on their separate ways. Three years later, Jughead shows up to where Betty works, with a soft smile on his face, his skin tanner and a book in his backpack.OrHow to never say goodbye.
Relationships: Betty Cooper & Jughead Jones, Betty Cooper/Jughead Jones
Series: From Our Window [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1715635
Comments: 129
Kudos: 200
Collections: 7th Bughead Fanfiction Awards - Nominees





	1. Together, to be

Jodie is staring at her by the time she comes out from out back. She’d had to check if they had any books left that a customer had requested on the phone. And she was seriously behind on restoring the book her boss trusted her with. It was strange how easily she had learned the trade, truthfully but she had been a good student and Mr. Carter was the best teacher she’d ever had, period. How she’d come to work here was a complete coincidence. Obviously she’d been looking for a job but the reason she entered the bookshop was HP Lovecraft. There in the window, on display. It was there as part of some sort of horror week and it made her think of Jughead so she walked in. 

Mr. Carter was inside, delighted, as always by a new customer, a warm smile on his face that reminded her of Fred Andrews. She’d gotten into a long conversation with him about books, everything and anything that came up until Mr. Carter decided to show her the restoring room.She’d been fascinated and he could see that, a wonder at how it all worked so he offered her a job, he’d teach how to restore and she’d work up front as well. 

Now three years later, he was finally trusting her with the books on her own and she was damn proud of herself. The process itself was liberating, she didn’t think about much else during the hours she spent on perfecting every corner and it brought her peace in those quiet hours of just her and a book. 

She misses him. Everyday. No matter how much she focuses on school or the bookshop, at night she’ll go back to her dorm room and feel that same feeling of loneliness again. She loves the friends she made when she first came to New Haven but there are things that they can’t even understand the concept of, things she’s been through. She knows that she’ll never actually find that kind of understanding anywhere other than with the people she lived it all with. 

Nobody knew that she was the daughter of the Blackhood. Nobody knew much about her hometown other than the fact that it was a place that didn’t bring Betty a lot of comfort. Her friends in New Haven are good people, normal people and in some way she can see that she fits in with them. At dinner parties and late nights out with them, she feels herself reaching for that green light and almost getting there, that sense of normalcy, as if she had a normal high school experience. But they know, she doesn’t have to say anything, they know that there’s something under Betty’s comments about her own life. As if the past held some kind of darkness that wasn’t meant to be spoken of outside of Riverdale borders. 

They know about Jughead though. All of it, they know of the love of her life and how she hurt him and how she’s never been able to really move on, even three years later. The framed picture of them on her bedside table, the picture of him in her wallet and the t-shirt she slept in. And the fact that whenever any guy tried to flirt, she’d shut them down with a sort of efficiency rarely seen was enough for them to know that whatever happened between them stopped her from all those things. 

Jodie had caught her crying sometimes. It was the day of their anniversary, the first year she was away and Betty had stared at ‘In Cold Blood’ for a solid fifteen minutes, crying silently. Her dark haired friend, had murmured, quietly, holding her. “Maybe you should move on, Betty. You can’t wait forever for something that may never come.” 

Betty shook her head, understanding that Jodie had the best intentions but knowing that no one could ever really grasp what she had with Jughead. He was her soulmate, their souls understood each other in ways Betty could never explain to anyone else and maybe she was being dramatic but being without him was like missing a limb. 

“Um, Betty?” Jodie calls out. 

“What? I don’t have a lot of time, I’ve still got that report-“ 

And in the middle of Mr. Carter’s bookshop is him. Jughead Jones. In the flesh. 

“Betty Cooper, you are a sight for sore eyes.” He smiles softly. And she gulps, eyes wide, mouth open as if to say something but never managing to get it out. Jodie sits on the counter, a bit of a bewildered look on her face as she watches the exchange. It was one thing to hear stories of their great love and the way Betty talked of him but it was another to watch them look at each other like that. 

“You’re here...” She breathes out, walking around the counter to him. Tentatively stepping closer, she takes him in. A little older, a little tanner with a softer glance in his eyes, yet an intense one all the same. She doesn’t have to wonder if she can hold him because he’s the one that pulls her in. “Oh my god.” She mumbles, into his shoulder. 

“Hi.” He says. 

“How did you know where to find me?” She questions. 

“Your mom. I asked her where you would be, she said you worked here on fridays.” He answers and she nods, of course. It was strange to know her mother talked to him often, that she was fond of the boy her daughter had fallen for at sixteen. “Know any places with decent coffee?” 

She glances back at Jodie, who rolls her eyes. “Go! I’ll lock up, babe!” Her friends grins. “And don’t you dare take that boy to Midpoint!” She points a finger. 

“Jodie, Midpoint is nice!” Betty argues, gathering her jacket from behind the counter. 

“A disgrace is what it is.” Jodie grumbles, hopping off the counter. 

“Don’t mind her, she thinks Midpoint’s ‘energy’ is negative.” She tells Jughead. 

“I’m telling you, someone was murdered there!” Jodie calls out as they exit the bookshop, the door closing behind them, as Betty laughs softly. 

“Well, we’d know something about that.” Jughead says with a small smile. 

•

After three years of hearing nothing from him, sitting in front of him in a coffee shop is, at the very least, daunting. She often wondered what it’d be like and now that she’s here, she feels overwhelmed. How do you talk to someone you’ve loved for years? How do you talk to a person you hurt? Someone who knows your deepest darkest secrets? 

“We can talk.” Jughead smiles softly, taking a sip of his coffee. “I know you, it’s...we...we don’t have to pretend this isn’t...I don’t know.” He breathes out. “It’s still you and me, right? It’s not as thought things just disappear, right?”

“They do change, though.” Betty frowns. “Sorry. It’s just, I’m still a bit in shock. Part of me believed I’d never see you again. I hoped. Everyday. But that doesn’t change the fact that I still went to bed believing you’d never want anything to do with me ever again. Which could still be the case, this can be just you saying ‘goodbye for life, Betty-“ 

“Stop.” He grabs her hand and she stills, eyes on his. “You know one way or the other I’d see you again. That I’d want to.” 

Betty shakes her head. “Jug, I really don’t. My own mistakes fucked me up a lot more than I’d care to admit.” She confesses, letting out a soft laugh, as she looks down at her hands. “And that’s okay. It’s forced me to honesty. My therapist says it’s a good thing that I’ve taken that and turned it into something semi-positive.” 

His gaze softens. “You’re seeing a therapist?” He questions. 

She nods, his gaze making her feel like a teenager all over again. “I decided I needed to. It’s helped, a lot.” 

“That’s good.” He smiles. “That’s really good, Betty.” 

Smiling back, she leans forward. “So where did you end up in? You’re tanned.” 

He laughs. “LA, at first. And then there was a job opportunity in Italy, I basically became a farmer as weird as that sounds but it gave me time to write. The people were nice too and it was beautiful there.” He pauses, chuckling at her shocked faced. “You would’ve liked it.” 

“You did any soul searching? Sounds like the place to be.” 

“Oh yeah, lots of it actually.” He nods. “I had a lot learn, as it turns out. About myself, about what I wanted.” 

“Did you figure it out?” 

“It’s process.” He shrugs with a soft smile, taking a sip of his coffee. “But yeah, Italy and then went back to LA for a bit. And you? How’s Yale?” 

“I graduate this year.” 

“Criminal Psych?” There’s a teasing glint in his eye. 

“It’s a part of it.” She chuckles softly. 

“You decided what you’re doing with that?” 

She shrugs. “Charles has been on my case about joining the FBI. He says he can speed things up for me.” With an eye roll she looks back at her coffee. “But I’m not sure yet. I’ve got a PI license.” 

His eyes widen in surprise. “Really?” 

“I’ve actually solved quite a few mysteries at Yale, not anything truly riveting, just a few corrupt professors here and there, things that aren’t exactly surprising. I’ve managed to rent an apartment with that money, along with the bookshop.” She tells him. “And also, the pizza’s good.” This time she looks into his eyes with the most genuine smile on her face and it tugs at his heartstrings. 

“And you’re okay?” 

Betty hesitates. “I’m...surviving.” 

“I’m sorry.” He murmurs. 

“Jug, it’s okay. You should never be sorry for anything I’m going through. None of this is your fault, it’s mine. It’s always mine.” She squeezes his hand. “I wish things could’ve been different, I wish I hadn’t made a stupid decision that ruined everything. I’ll be apologising for it for the rest of my life.” 

Taking a deep breath. “I’ve been healing, Betts. I want you to know that. I also realize that no matter how much we grew up in those three years, we were still teenagers. And now that I’ve had time to process it, I think I can understand how messy your mind must’ve been. With the future and me slacking and you spiralled. I get it.” He tells her. “It’s not okay, what you did, obviously, but I’ve had enough time and distance to come to terms with the fact that I believe you. When you said you loved me, that it was a dumb mistake, that you got caught up. I believe you.” 

“You do?” She chokes out, tears welling up in her eyes. 

“I do.” He nods. “I don’t want to rush this. I want to be in your life again. And I don’t want you to spend another Christmas alone in your apartment.” 

Her heart thumps in her chest. “You know about that?” 

“Your mom and my dad both have lengthy complaints about how neither of us ever come home anymore.” He chuckles softly. 

“I couldn’t do it. No matter how many times I thought of going back, I just...” She runs her hand through her hair, sighing. “I went back for Hiram’s funeral but that was as much as I could handle.” 

It had been an ordeal. Hiram’s funeral. Her mother told her about it and she felt that she should at least pay her respects to Veronica but it seems that she’d made it worse by actually showing up. It earned a yelling match that had her sprinting out of there faster than ever. She had gotten in the car and hadn’t even said goodbye to her mother. 

“I heard about what happened.” 

She brushes it off, shrugging. “Yeah, I deserved it.” 

He frowns, but doesn’t comment on it any further, instead there’s a slight pause in the conversation and she watches as he reaches for his backpack and takes out a book. “I wanted to give you this.” He hands her the book and she gasps as she reads what’s on the cover. ‘Riverdale’ by FP. Jones III. “At first I was going to name it ‘The boy in the River’, because of Jason and whatnot but the story changed I think. It’s not just about Jason, it’s about everything. It became more autobiographical than I wanted it to be.” 

“Jug...” She runs her fingers across the cover, unable to stop herself from tearing up. “You finished it.” 

“The great American novel.” He chuckles, a bashful look on his face. 

“Oh my god, Juggie. You’re published!” She mirrors his green, clutching the book in her hands. “I’m so proud of you.” She takes his hand in hers, smiling. 

“That one is yours. It’s supposed to come out next month and I wanted you to read it before, just in case.” 

Her brows furrow. “Just in case?” 

He flushes, gulping down his coffee. “Just read it. My new number’s in there, I’m living in New York as of right now so when you do read it, give me a call and I’ll come up. If you want me to obviously...” He rambles and she nods, offering a small smile which he mimics. 

“You’re still headed to New York tonight?” 

“Yeah, I have a meeting tomorrow morning and I didn’t think-“ 

She clears her throat. “Right. Sorry.” With a nod, she puts the book down. “I’ll read it. And I’ll call you.” 

“I’ll be waiting.” 

•

_‘ And what happened to the boy from the wrong side of the tracks? Born in what was thought to be the darkest part of the town with pep? The boy that thought he’d never be worthy of anyone’s love had lost everything again and when he thought he’d crack, he felt his heart hardened by every cut and bruise, every crack in the armour he had forged for himself. _

_ When he tried to take the armour off, it was clinging to his body, frozen. The one who had helped him rid of its weight before had been the one to swing the sword that cut deepest. He felt lost and alone and he felt as though he’d never recover, that he’d be standing alone in his own personal battlefield forever, cracked armour, succumbing to the darkest part of himself. The part of himself that he felt was unworthy of such things as happiness.  _

_ What kind of unimaginable light shined upon me to believe her is still unclear, but her grip on my heart lessened and I felt her let me go, helping me rid of the armour one last time. I let her go just the same. I wanted to forgive her and I left to figure out how.  _

_ I searched the world for myself, haunted by memories of who I was and how it was so impossible to separate my identity from my perfect girl-next-door. I searched and I wrote this book to prove my ultimate, at the very least, disturbing teenage existence and to prove that I found a way out, even if that meant shedding the skin of who I thought I was.  _

_ I forgive her. And I love her.  _

_ And I can love her in spite of her mistakes. I love her because I know she’ll always see the brightest part of myself. Because I see the brightest parts of her and I love the darkest even more.  _

_ I used to love an idea of her, much like she loved the idea of our very own boy-next-door. Her pristine perfection, Cooper smile and Hitchcock blonde hair. The idea that she was the light that balanced out the darkness of where I came from. She was my green light. Unattainable. The one I reached for every night.  _

_ And then I saw her. For who she was. Imperfect. Human. Flawed. Mind filled with plaguing thoughts I knew, at times, only I could soothe. The paper house she lived in burned faster than anyone could’ve predicted and I’d been there, when her knees buckled to the ground and she couldn’t stand.  _

_ Maybe that was the part that hurt the most. That she’d felt the grandeur of who she really was and recoiled to what she used to pretend to be, when the future got too close. The past that held the simplicity of our world. Memories of a past I’d watched from the sidelines happen. It hurt that after all that time, I couldn’t give her hope of brighter days.  _

_ Ultimately, I believe she loved me. And I believe that she regrets the moment darkness won. And I know deep down, she’ll never let it win again.  _

_ And I will search for who I am without her. Because that is the only way I can find the courage in me to love her so wholly again.  _

•

She closes the book, clutches it to her chest and the tears that had started about halfway through the story, couldn’t stop now that the story was over. 

Their story. 

When he’d talked to her about the book, she always felt as thought it was built around the mysteries of their hometown. But it wasn’t. What she held in her hand was them. Their story. And to read his words, his side of the story broke her heart and filled it with warmth. He loved her. God he loved her so much and reading his words was like relieving it all over again. It was falling in love all over again. 

Every moment he describes. Making love to her. Loving her. Having her break his heart. It makes her realise that she really wasn’t imagining how deep their souls were connected, no matter how many people might’ve told her otherwise. 

No. 

Their love was the realest thing she’d ever felt. 

“Hello?”  
  


“Jug?” She breathes out. “I’m getting on a train in twenty minutes. Send me your address?”


	2. Silence in my Blood

She wants to tell him so much. How much she misses him, how sorry she is, how she understands thoughts and reactions about herself she never had when she was in Riverdale. She wants to ask him if he’s better, if he figured himself out like he had said in his book, if he’s happy. If he’s happier without her. She had spent so much for her time feeling guilty for breaking his heart, so much time feeling like the worst person in the world for destroying the one good thing in her life. Therapy helped. It established that she had a tendency to self destruct, because all she had known was pain. She’d gotten better at banishing those thoughts out of her mind but it could never change the fact that she was to blame for her own pain when it came to Jughead. 

Her mind is going a hundred miles a minute, the whole journey to New York. And for all the things she wants to tell him, she’s not sure he deserves to hear it. Why would he deserve this? How could he want her back in his life after all that she had done to him? Maybe he’d be better off without her. And she could just watch him live his life without her. 

There’s another part of her that absolutely rejects the idea. No. She loves him and she misses him and she so desperately wants him back. She wants to be with him. She wants him to love her again. She wants all those dreams she used to have to be restored. She wants a future with him. Their story in his book, so wonderfully written had made her love him even more, had awoken the deep need she always felt for him. Reading about how he fell in love with her was emotional, even more so when she broke his heart just three years later. It made her feel loved, he always had but the words that came from the deepest parts of him was different than a simple ‘I love you’. Jughead Jones loved her and she broke his heart. 

She buzzes the doorbell, waits for the door to open. When it does, she can’t help but stare for a few seconds at him, dressed in an infamous ‘S’ T-shirt, with pajama pants and she’s taken back to their senior year, when they lived together. 

“Hey, Betts.” Jughead greets, a smile on his lips as he opens the door wide to let her come inside. 

His apartment is nice, there’s boxes everywhere which Betty knows is because he’s just moved in and Jughead can be incredibly resistant to actually unpacking or packing. Helping him pack for Stonewall had been the hardest task possible since he kept distracting her with his lips. 

“Can I get you anything? I still have to go grocery shopping but...” He laughs softly. 

“I’m fine, Jug.” 

He nods, running a hand through his hair. “So, you read it?” 

“I did.” She breathes out. “It’s...fucking brilliant, Jug.” 

He huffs out a laugh. “Really?” 

“Yes, really. I love it.” Nodding, she reassured him. Even after being published, his insecurities threatening to come up. “I thought it would’ve been about the mystery and not..” She trails off. 

“Us?” 

“Yeah.” 

“It started out about the mystery, but it just...didn’t feel right.” He explains. She wants to know everything but doesn’t ask. “Let’s sit, come on.” He leads her to the couch and she sits next to him, waiting for him to continue explaining. She almost wants to hate how much better she feels just being around him. It almost makes her wish she hadn’t let her whole being be so intertwined with him, but ultimately, she doesn’t. “I wanted you to read it before, in case you felt like there was something on there you wouldn’t want to be.” 

Brows furrowed, she questions. “What do you mean?” 

He sighs. “I mean, stuff about your dad, about us, about you.” 

“No.” She murmurs and he seems relieved at her reaction. “I don’t mind. I just...that was a lot which is why I’m here because I needed to...I don’t know...talk to you. I...it was...I really hurt you, Jug.” She frowns, already feeling the tears burning in her eyes. 

“Hey, no, no, Betts. That wasn’t what I wanted to show you. Yes, you hurt me but it’s okay. I’m okay.”

“I’m so sorry. I think I’ll always be sorry about what I did.” 

“I forgive you.” He tells her. 

“I know that. But I don’t think I forgive myself and I...” 

“Betts,” he grabs her hand in his, smiling softly. “We were kids, living in a nightmarish world.” 

“It doesn’t excuse it.” She responds and he frowns. “I need you to know that. Nothing anyone in that town ever did can be excused. It doesn’t matter how fucked up any of us are. I went and destroyed the one thing that was actually keeping me sane.” 

He pauses, sighing softly. “Okay, then.” She looks up at him. “From now on, that’s not who we are. We’re not Betty and Jughead from Riverdale. Just you and me, here, right now, starting over. Can we do that? Can we start over?” 

“Jug...” 

“I want you in my life. That’s it. I don’t care about what happened. And I feel like that should be my decision. You don’t have to keep beating yourself up, you don’t have to deem yourself unworthy or whatever it is that I’ve noticed you do. And I’m going to help you forgive yourself and see yourself the way I still see you.” 

She shakes her head, sniffling. “Why? Why, Jug?” 

“Because I want to.” 

“Just like that?” 

He smiles, squeezing her hand. “Just like that.” 

“I’ve been trying not to be too hard on myself. It’s a process...therapy is helping but I just...seeing you again kind of put me off balance.” He frowns at her words and she backtracks, eyes wide. “No, not like that, Jug.” There’s an assertiveness in her voice jumping out. She wants him to know him being back in her life is probably the best thing that has happened in the last three years. “I missed you so much and you make me feel better. So much better.” She pauses. “But you also remind me of how much I obliterated us and what I loved.” 

“I trust you.” Jughead murmurs after a beat. Her eyes search for his as he says this and as she expected, there isn’t a hint that he isn’t telling the truth. 

“Okay.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yes. Okay. Starting over.” She can’t help but smile at him. 

“Friends?” 

It’s enough for now. If that’s all he ever wants to be, she’ll give it to him. “Friends.” She promises. 

“Can I hug you now?” He grins and she’s reminded of the sixteen year old boy she learned to love to the core. The boy that had held her when she broke down. The boy who solved mysteries with her and the boy who loved her with every bit of himself. 

Being in his arms again feels like a new promise to her soul. A promise of healing, bit by bit. With a smile and a question. With sigh of relief. 

He pulls away and she immediately feels the loss of his warmth but baby steps, she tells herself. She’ll take every step carefully. “Now that the heavy lifting has been done, want to watch a movie or something?” 

It’s strange to do something as mundane as watching a movie with him. To sit beside him after all these years, laughing at his commentary. But she feels herself heal, like she can feel his forgiveness, like maybe she sees a day where she can forgive herself. 

So she falls asleep on his couch and wakes to an empty apartment but a note on the coffee table, alerting her that he was in a meeting and would be for the whole morning. Sending out a text, saying she’s heading back to New Haven for school, she gets off the couch and leaves with a lighter heart than when she came in.

•

It’s scary how seamlessly he fits into her life. They talk daily, text all the time and it’s as though nothing ever happened. It feels good. Having him in her life feels good and apparently everyone around her notices the shift in her mood. 

Jodie smirks every time Betty checks her phone when they’re working. She sends knowing looks and Betty blushes. Jughead comes to Yale a few times and she travels down to New York to visit him. It’s easy. Being friends with him is easy. He understands her like no one ever will, she thinks. It’ll never be like that with anyone else. 

Three months after their decision to be back in each other’s life, she graduates. She takes Charles’ offer and gets a job at the FBI. Sheisn’t an agent quite yet, she doesn’t meet the age requirements but Charles is able to pull a few strings and she’s apparently accepted as an in training officer. She’s placed in New York City. 

“What do you think of the cover?” He questions over Chinese food on the floor of her practically empty new apartment. He’d been helping her unpack. “Is it...I don’t know...it doesn’t feel cheesy, the neon sign?” 

Swallowing her food, she confesses. “I think it doesn’t really emulate the feel of the book.” 

He nods. “The book is softer, right? It felt so hallow, looking at it. It reminds me of Pop’s but it’s not the book.” 

“Do you have other options, besides that one?” She questions. 

“There’s one I really liked. It’s simple. Just the title and my name. Blue background. I asked them for blue.” 

In her head, she knows why he picked blue but she asks anyway. “Why blue?” 

With a shrug, he smiles. “It’s your favourite color.” 

Gulping, she manages to smile back. “You should keep that one.” 

He does. 

•

A week into living in New York City, he introduces her to a few friends he’d made in the city. The group is nice, funny and she can clearly see why Jughead is friends with them. They have a similar sense of humour and they welcome her in easily, it warms her heart to see Jughead look so relaxed. It also reminds her of how much things have changed. 

“So, where did you two meet?” Terry, a girl with short hair and stunning smile, asks her, cigarette in her mouth. Terry is kind, Betty can tell. She immediately asks a million questions about Betty the moment they meet, giving her her full attention with a kind of warmth Betty isn’t quite used to. 

Jughead takes a sip of his beer with a smile. “We grew up together.” 

Betty eyes him for a second. She knows it takes a lot more than a simple conversation to explain how they met. When they were kids? Or when they actually met each other for who they were? Should she say their minds knew each other since they were six but their souls met at sixteen? Was that too much? 

“Oh! So you know the murder capitol? Jughead has told us a few bits and pieces. Now that the book is out, I will say...what a strange little town you two lived in.” Terry smiles. 

Betty chuckles softly. It’s nice to be able to laugh about it for once without fear of breaking down. “Something like that.” She says. 

Terry becomes the more permanent fixture in her life out of the group. They both enjoy running. They live in the same neighbourhood, coincidentally and Terry works in an office near the FBI headquarters. It’s not like Veronica, but it’s not like her Yale friends, as nice as they were. She’s a bit like Jodie, although she’s mostly lost touch with her bookstore best friend apart from a few texts. Terry makes her laugh, they go out for drinks, Terry talks about her girl and boy problems. Betty doesn’t talk about any of that but they have enough in common to not have to broach the subject, on her part. 

Betty likes her life now, more than she did a few months ago. And although, at times, when it’s late and Jughead is over at her apartment or she’s over at his, she’d like to kiss him and tell him she’s in love with him, she’s happy. She’s genuinely happy. 

•

Winter brings something she wasn’t expecting.Jughead goes on a date, he starts dating a girl named Ava. She’d asked him out, she’d made him laugh with a dumb joke, he tells her when they’re walking to the bar to meet everyone. 

“Are you okay with that?” He had asked like she had a say in the matter.

She brushes him off, forcing a smile. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” Pushing the door to the bar open, she greets everybody with a grin. She drinks two extra shots that night to numb the pain. And hates it in the morning. 

Ava is not what she wanted her to be. The girl is sweet, they meet when Jughead invites everyone over for dinner because the book had been selling so well and he wanted to celebrate. 

“Don’t you just fucking hate that?” Terry groans, puffing out smoke as she sits with Betty in the fire escape. Her newest friend is staring at Ava and Jughead, Betty is trying her best not to look. 

Betty laughs. “Terry!” 

“What? It’s not like I have to lie about it!” Terry is blunt. Betty likes that. “She’s sweet, alright but it’s not the right fit. Ava’s such a terrible name too.” She sighs, adverting her gaze away as Terry turns to look at her. “How can you do this?” 

“What?” 

“This. Act like it’s all fine. You and Jughead.”

“It is fine. We’re fine.” Betty’s never talked about Jughead in those terms to Terry. Terry doesn’t know the whole truth about them, but seems to feel it anyway.

“You’re the girl in the book, aren’t you?” The question catches her off guard and she blows out a breath, wanting to sink into her jacket. 

“I am.” She answers finally. “How’d you know that?”

“I figured. He’s different around you.” Terry explains and Betty can understand her point. It would always be different with him. “You hurt him.” 

She nods. “I did.” 

“But that hurt you a thousand times more than it hurt him, didn’t it?” 

A beat passes, her heart aches. “It broke me.” 

Taking another drag of the cigarette, Terry places a gentle hand on Betty’s thigh and smiles at her. “I believe in fate, babe. So hang in there.” 

Betty laughs softly. “Aren’t you a poet?” 

“Mmmh, the way that boy wrote about you, I think you know who the poet in the room is.” 

She goes home alone and tries to forget about it all. 

•

For the first time in three years, Betty goes home for Christmas. She still has her shitty station wagon that desperately needs fixing, so her and Jughead pile their things into the car and drive off together to Riverdale. They sing along to the songs on the radio, Jughead buys too many snacks at every service station, they take turns in driving and Betty still feels more nervous than she’s felt in a while. 

Her mother and FP seem to be so relieved that her and Jughead are friends now. They’re excited to have them home, her mother, as FP had told her, had put out all the stops when it came to food. JB and Charles were also coming, plus the twins that were now in Alice’s care since Cheryl and Toni went to college and Nana Rose passed away. She hasn’t actually seen the twins in at least a year when her mother came to visit for a day, the kids tagging along. Polly was still in a mental institution and apparently showed no signs of improvement which broke her heart more than she let on. But she was about to spend Christmas with family for the first time in years after spending the past three years, eating ice cream alone in her apartment. 

“JB‘s happy you’re back.” Jughead murmurs as they’re arriving in Riverdale. 

Betty’s surprised. She was sure JB hated her and this new piece of information throws her off. She’d talked to FP, she knew where he stood but JB wasn’t a topic that came up often. So, knowing that Jughead’s sister was ‘happy’ she was back was shocking. 

“She is?” She questions. 

Jughead nods. “I don’t think you know, but she cares about you. When we lived together, she really loved you.” 

“Jug, she hated me when it went down. She wouldn’t even look at me.” Betty argues. 

Jughead frowns. “Maybe it wasn’t that deep. Maybe she was mad at first but got over it. Maybe she misses you, Betty. We both left the minute graduation ended, she didn’t really have time to take it in. Nobody did.” 

The conversation ends there and in ten minutes, they’re pulling up to the driveway. It’s overwhelming. Sitting in the car in front of the place she once called home makes her feel uneasy. Jughead doesn’t make any gesture to indicate he’s getting out. He sits beside her, noticing the way her breathing’s heavier. 

“You okay?” 

His question is gentle. Betty feels transported to a different time, to so many times of them in the car, chests feeling too tight from all the suffocating events troubling them. He’d been the only thing to keep her grounded. Steady in his love, unwavering in the way he showed it. And he’s here now too. A different way of seeing each other, heavy in the memories they held in this place together, but he’s here. He still cares. And he’s still her best friend. 

“It’s...” she inhaled sharply, voice wavering. “I haven’t been here in so long and last time I was it- fuck I’m sorry, I thought I’d be fine.” 

“Betts, it’s fine.” He takes her hand in his and she looks at him. “It was the same for me the first time I came back to the house.” Jughead confesses. “But it’s gonna be okay. We’re gonna have a nice Christmas and you’re never spending another one alone, you hear me?” 

He makes her smile. It’s a bit conflicting, she’s the sole reason both of them ached the first time being home, she’s why it feels so harsh yet he’s making her smile, because he’d forgiven her. She swears she’s been trying to feel worthy of that forgiveness but there’s also the clear notion that it’ll take a while before she can. 

The moment passes, she gets out of the car, follows Jughead inside after a quick comment on how they’ll get their bags later. Jughead has a key, she left hers on the kitchen counter the day she left. 

“Betty?” Alice is crying as she steps out of the kitchen to see her. Betty doesn’t stop her own tears from falling, instead she hugs her mother tighter. “I missed you, baby.” She smiles, caressing her daughter’s cheek. 

Jughead is wrapped up in FP’s arms but soon lets go to greet Alice. FP stares at her with this warm look on his face before pulling her in for a hug. It makes her feel sad and happy and nostalgic. She buries her face in his shoulder. There’s a part of her that assumes Jughead had told her all about what happened when he came to New Haven, but she’s not sure. 

“How you doing, kid?” FP rubs her back, chuckling softly. “I missed you, Betty.” He murmurs. “I really did.” And it’s like a little piece lost returns to her body. 

“I missed you too.” She chokes out. 

•

Nobody hates her. 

Nobody hates her. 

The realization of the fact happens a lot quicker than she could’ve expected. But she feels loved and Charles beams proudly, saying that Betty’s about to be the FBI’s top agent, everyone says of course, of course she would because when does Betty not excel at something? Jughead smiles proudly, her mother tries to hide the tears. FP is loud about his pride. 

JB talks to her about her life and Betty loves to hear every detail of her high school experience, but she grieves the fact that she wasn’t there for her. 

Dagwood attaches himself to her, insisting he wants to eat dinner in her lap. Betty lets him, even though Alice disagrees. He calls her ‘auntie Betty’ and she’s a goner. Juniper likes Jughead and Betty can tell that she knows him, sees him almost as much as she does. 

After dinner, they decide to play a board game while the twins are watching a movie on the TV. Jughead argues Monopoly is a game built to fuel capitalism, Jellybean tells him he’s no fun, everyone is having fun and Betty’s still felling out of sorts. 

She thinks it’s this perpetual feel of unworthiness she carries with her now. Like she’s unworthy of happiness, of having moments like this. And yes, therapy has given her coping mechanisms but that feeling is never gone and she can’t control when it pops up. Because after feeling unworthy, she feels guilty for feeling it when the people around her seem to only want her to be happy. She wants to be happy without any reservations. 

When she loses at the game, she slips out and heads upstairs, saying she needs a sweater. What she needs is a breather, so she walks into their old bedroom, her childhood room and hates that nothing has changed. Exactly how she left it. 

A knock on the door startles her as she sits on the bed, lost in her thoughts. 

“Mind if I join you?” Jellybean smiles sweetly. 

“Yeah, sure, Jelly.” 

Jellybean sits beside her and is silent for a few seconds. Betty doesn’t find the strength to make small talk and she’s sure Jellybean isn’t here for that either. 

“Are you okay?” The younger girl asks. 

“Yeah, I think this is one of the best days I’ve had in a while.” Betty answers sincerely. “I just...needed to breathe a little.” 

Jellybean nods. “Right.” She pauses. “It was so empty you left.” The girl’s eyes look around slowly. “The whole house. You were gone and then Jug and it just...” She shrugs. 

“I’m sorry.” Betty murmurs quietly. She wishes she had given herself the choice to stay a little longer but she knows it would’ve been worse, but she’s sorry for the emptiness. 

“I was used to seeing you every when I got home even when you and Jug were all into your sleuthing.” Jellybean confesses. It’s a strange thing to see her like this, so open, older, more mature. She’d missed out on seeing JB become a woman because of her mistake too. She hates that that one mistake impacted literally everyone in her life. “I missed you. There’s no one around to do girl stuff with.” 

Betty lets out a soft breath. “I missed you too, Jelly. And I’m sorry for...” 

She waves her off. “It’s okay. It really is. Now that I’m an actual dumb teenager, I can’t imagine what you guys went through back then, how you came out without turning to the dark side or something.” Jellybean laughs softly. “Everyone’s over it, Betty. Even Jug. Especially Jug. You’re both home so that’s something.” 

“Yeah,” Betty discreetly wipes a tear away with the sleeve of her sweater. “Thank you, Jelly. For not hating me.” 

Jellybean frowns and she looks so much like her brother. “No one hated you. Ever.” 

“I think I did.” Betty confesses. “I’m still working on it.” 

“Well, if you ever need a reminder that people love you, just holler at me. I’m always a phone call away.” 

Betty laughs. It doesn’t feel quite as hard to look at her. “I will, Jelly.” 

“You’re the only person who still calls me that. Even when you asked your mom about me on the phone.” 

“Oh...I can call you JB if-“ 

“No!” Jellybean laughs. “It’s nice.” 

It is nice. 

•

On New Years, Jughead is still with Ava. They’re back in New York, at his apartment with everybody in their group of friends plus a few people they had brought and it hurts like a bitch to see him with her, partly because he seems happy. Partly because Jughead seems so at ease with his life, Betty wonders how she fits into it. 

So, she’s certain that the bottle of tequila slowly being decimated is her fault, along with Terry. She feels wasted, the world spins off it’s axes and she’s in the bathroom alone, throwing up. She wants to get her shit together and call an Uber but even her fucking iPhone won’t recognize her face and she can’t remember her passcode. She’s a disgrace. She’s the biggest mess she’s ever known and still, the only clear thought in her head is him. 

Just as she lurches over the toiled again, she feels a gentle hand on her back and another in her hair. She recognizes it’s his the moment his fingertips graze her skin. 

“Fuck.” She mumbles, as she leans back against the bathtub. 

“Hey, you.” Jughead smiles kindly. She feels embarrassed, all she can think about is tomorrow morning and how it’ll feel to enter a new year this way and how Jughead will never want her again when she’s such a mess. “You feeling better? I got the guest room set up for you, okay? Are you all done or you need to go again?” 

She shakes her head. She thinks there’s nothing else to get out of her system, except the words that come to her when he lies her down on the bed. The party has died down, most people have gone home and Jughead is with her at the edge of the bed. 

“I’m in love with you.” She says because it’s true and because the words burn in her throat just as much as the acidic taste of her own bile. 

“You’re drunk.” He whispers in the dark and he looks so beautiful. He looks so beautiful she could kiss him if she could stand. 

“I’ll be sober and still be in love with you.” She stumbles on the words. Her gaze unfocused as she grips his hand. 

He sighs and then leans down to press a kiss to her forehead, slowly. “Get some sleep, Betts.” He murmurs before standing up and slipping out of the room. 

She knows she’ll regret it in the morning. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter while I work on every other WIP of mine lol Hope you like it! More to come!


	3. For you take every street home

“I’m sorry, are you being fucking serious right now?” Jughead laughs bitterly, aggressively throwing the empty beer bottles into the bag. It’s New Years Day. Betty is still asleep in his guest bedroom. Ava had stayed over and was helping him clean up, but if she had annoyed him last night, she was certainly pissing him off this morning. 

“Yes, I’m being serious, Jughead! You want me to not be mad when you drop me anytime a Betty situation pops up?” Ava is standing in the middle of the kitchen and Jughead has a hangover and he’s pretty sure this conversation is one they’ve had before. 

“I drop you?” He scoffs. “Were you injured last night or something? Why shouldn’t I go take care of my drunk best friend when she needed me? When she was throwing up in my bathroom?” 

“I mean that every time Betty calls or even texts or is in the room, you always flock to her!” Ava argues, Jughead is sure he’s broken a few bottles from the strength he’s putting into throwing them in. 

“We’ve talked about this!” 

“Yes and you always say something and do the opposite!” 

“Lower your fucking voice!” Jughead snaps, his mind retreating to Betty asleep in the guest bedroom. 

Ava laughs, poison in the sound. “Do you hear yourself? We’re having an important conversation and you’re telling me to lower my voice because Betty’s asleep!” 

Jughead drops the bag, turns to face her. “Alright, you wanna go at it?” He challenges. “How long have we been together? Three months give or take?” 

“Yes, Jughead. Three months.” 

“I’ve known Betty my whole life! I’ve lived things with her I will never live with anyone else! Not with you, not with anyone, it’s fucking impossible! So, yeah, there you go, it’s Betty! That’s the difference between whatever relationship I might with people and Betty!” He lays it all out and Ava seems hurt but he can’t bring himself to care. “I’m not looking to commit to whatever idea you have, I’ve always been clear about it.” 

Ava pauses and sighs, looking at anywhere but his eyes. Jughead likes her, he has fun with her but he knows he will never commit to her. He doesn’t see a future with her and that will come to its head eventually. 

“Good morning.” Betty walks into the kitchen, seemingly noticing the tension, as she carefully steps inside. 

“Morning.” Ava responds sharply. “There’s coffee in the pot. I’m leaving.” Her words are pointed at him. She doesn’t waste any time, getting out of the kitchen and into hall to gather her things and walk out the door. Jughead makes no effort to stop her. Betty stares bewildered. 

“What was that?” Betty questions eyeing him.

“It’s nothing, how’s your head?” She doesn’t look at all convinced of the fact. 

“It didn’t sound like nothing.” She frowns. “Head is feeling better than I expected. I didn’t say anything too embarrassing last night, did I?” 

His heart drops. Should he tell her about what happened? Maybe it would be better if she didn’t know. He didn’t want to see that heartbroken look on her face, he hated it, it made him feel so hallow inside whenever she looked at him like that. Perhaps he could keep this one secret until he figures it how himself. 

“No.” He blurts out. “You were fine.” 

Betty seems too hungover to notice his hesitation and he’s relieved for a moment. But the thoughts that swirl in his mind leave his throat tight, gripping his heart. She doesn’t remember what she told him. Either that or she’s really good at hiding it. But he’s guessing that from how out of it she had been last night, the first option seems more likely. 

“I can’t believe I have to work tomorrow. I feel like I’ll probably need a week to recover from this.” Betty groans, as she putters around his kitchen in search of a mug. “You seriously need decent mugs. Aren’t you like loaded now? Should be your New Years resolution.” 

“Stop attacking my home, Betty Cooper.” 

She grins, pouring coffee into the mug. “Happy new year, Jug.” She tells him. 

“Yeah, almost forgot.” He chuckles. “So, new year, new me?” 

“Nah, I’ve been working on the new me for a few years now.” She jokes but he receives it as something else, the underlying truth beneath the joke. He knew it was true, he knew that her self acceptance was a long way off, even if he had forgiven her. But she’s hungover and he’s still angry and tired of Ava, so he doesn’t say anything. “The book’s in the top ten.” She mentions, beaming with pride even in her hungover state. “I wanted to talk to you about it but last night was busy.” 

He nods, laughing, hand rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m still in shock, honestly.” 

“I’m not.” She smiles. “You deserve it. More than anyone.” And it’s always there, her belief in him, never unwavering. He knew that, even when all the shitshow of their past went on, she beloved in him, in his voice, in his passion. And now here he was, with a book published and the sales skyrocketing. 

“I kind of owe it to you. You pushed me to keep writing it, even during the shit storms we went through.” He explains. 

“No, you would’ve done it without me. And if we really wanna attribute why you finished it, it’s me when I fucked.” 

He shakes his head. “You know, you curse a lot more than you used to.” He doesn’t want to talk about her guilt anymore, maybe he’s allowed that one small pleasure. Maybe he can help her by not talking about it. 

She hums. “It’s the years away from a real Cooper.” 

“Suits you.” 

“I’m flattered you think so.” She snorts. “My mother would disagree.” 

He shrugs. “I think she’s in the business of wanting you happy nowadays.” 

His statement takes the amusement away from her face and he notices how it shifts. He guesses a lot of people from their past life, with enough distance from the traumatic events that plagued their lives, just wanted others to be happy. But Betty’s mom, their family really, after all the years that Betty tortured herself by staying away, truthfully didn’t care about her past mistakes. How in comparison to the real importance of people, it paled. She did betray him, but she’d been traumatized and frightened. It’s Betty that doesn’t understand that fact. 

“Veronica is in town.” Betty mentions after a few seconds of silence. He questions how she knows. “Um, Twitter, it’s the one place she forgot to block me on. I never used it. I just check on her.” 

“You check on her?” 

“Yeah, she seems well. She opened an event company in London. And she’s pretty successful actually.” 

“I know.” Jughead gulps. “I...um, we keep in touch.” 

Betty hesitates, he can tell how she falters for second. He should’ve told her sooner but it always felt like it’d be a blow to her. To know that her ex boyfriend and ex best friend were sort of friends. “You and Veronica?” 

“We sort messaged each other, just quick check ups, when high school ended. Then after Hiram, we talked a bit more so yeah. I went to London to visit, when I was in Italy.” She nods, setting her mug down on the counter. “Is that okay?” 

“Why would that have to do with me?” Her defense is up in a second. 

“You know what I mean.” 

“No, Jug. It’s not my business. Veronica cut me out of her life, rightfully so. If she knew I could see her Twitter, she’d probably have my account deleted. I have no business knowing if you kept in touch or not. My feelings shouldn’t even be on your mind.” 

“Your feelings are always on my mind.”  In more ways than one. 

The conversation looses its momentum. They’re quiet for a moment. He wants to know what she’s thinking. But she doesn’t give anything away. Instead, she drinks the remaining coffee in her cup and turns to wash the mug. 

This feels complicated,  he thinks.  You’re my best friend and sometimes I don’t know why you can’t talk to me,  he wants to say. 

“I should start heading home.” She tells him, clearing her throat. “I feel gross and I need to change.” 

“Right.” 

“Bye Jug. Happy New Year.” She breezes past him, pausing for a second to kiss his cheek before picking out her jacket from the pile people had left over and her purse and leaving. 

•

Veronica is sitting across from him at what he knows will probably be the most expensive place he’ll have eaten all week because the menus don’t even have prices. She’s still very much her own extravagant self. And although, he’d never expected to consider her a friend l, he supposed the shared life experiences kind of made all the difference. Archie and Betty episode the most prominent. 

“How long will you be in town for?” He questions, gulping down the wine he does not want to know the price of. Even if maybe, he can afford it now. 

“Until Monday. Then I’m back to London.” Veronica answers and he nods, there’s a pause. He can tell Veronica wants to talk about one specific thing. “Betty lives in New York.” 

“She does.”

“When were you going to tell me you were all buddy buddy with her?” 

“Veronica.” Jughead warns. 

“What?” 

“How do you even know that?” 

“I check her Instagram.” 

“Didn’t you block her on social media?” 

“I still use He Who Shall Not Be Named’s account for her. I changed his password.” 

“You stole his account? Just for her? Seems like a lot of trouble for someone who you claim to no longer care about.” 

Veronica scoffs. “Besides the point.” 

“No, no, no, that is the point!” He argues. “Just swallow your pride, Veronica. It’s been years. I can assure you that Betty’s hurting a lot more than anyone.” 

A bitter laugh escapes her. “Boo hoo poor her, she’s the one who made a mistake.” 

“We were kids and Betty was traumatized and scared about the future and she made a mistake, you’re right! Which she fully regretted! Which is more than our Red headed buddy did! And she fucking tortured herself for years, she still tortures herself. It’s fucked up, Veronica.” He sighs, leaning back against his chair. “Ever thought that the reason you can’t let yourself forgive her is because you can’t admit that Archie wasn’t at all who you thought he was? That he didn’t ever regret anything? That maybe his own selfishness affected his feelings and hers were a product of fear and confusion, which she figured out pretty quickly?” 

Veronica stares at him. “Archie always wanted what he couldn’t have.” 

“That’s my point, Veronica.” 

“So, what? She still fucked up!” 

“It’s been enough time for you to see that not everything’s simple and that people make mistakes. And maybe she deserves a bit of compassion after all the isolation she forced on herself.” He tells her and Veronica looks down at her hands. “They hurt you, I get it. And I was hurt too. Maybe a little less because I know she chose me. I think this has more to do with Archie than it does with her, your anger. She shattered the illusion, didn’t she?” 

Veronica’s demeanor changes and she sinks into her chair. He’s right, he knows that. He knows that at the very least, Betty had come to her senses and the whole Archie thing solidified her own feelings. Reassured her of who she loved. She went about that the wrong way but still, in the end, she chose him. He had worried for so long that if Archie had given her the choice, she’d fall right back into him. And then she was given the choice and her choice was him.  I’m in,  she had said. Her choice had been made. 

Archie though? No. He wanted what he couldn’t have. He never thought about anyone else but himself and his immediate wants and needs. Pure and loyal wasn’t real. And maybe Jughead knew that for a lot longer than that hellish week, maybe every other moment in their friendship was very clear on who Archie was. Maybe he’d changed now, maybe he was better, maybe he had grown up. But still, his mistakes were a lot worse than Betty’s. And Veronica just didn’t want to confront that fact. 

“Maybe you’re right.” Veronica murmurs, with a sigh and then looks up at him. 

“Really?” 

“Yes, Jughead.” She rolls her eyes. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I don’t want to confront the wasted years I spent in love with him.” 

“Does that mean you may be willing to have dinner at my place tomorrow, with Betty?” 

“Would she want to?” 

He nods. “Definitely. She might panic beforehand but she would. She’s very sure everyone hates her so if she sounds like she maybe wants to slap her own face, get used to it.” 

“Okay.” Veronica nods. 

•

“My heart is beating so fast.” Betty breathes out, pacing around his living room. 

“Betty, there’s no reason to be nervous. It’s just Veronica.” He laughs softly. 

“Did you hear the words that just came out of your mouth, Jug? It’s Veronica, who hates me!” 

“She doesn’t hate you.” She stops pacing to glare at him, unconvinced. “The hate is more directed at Archie but she refuses to acknowledge that.” She sighs, sitting back down on the couch next to him. “Take a deep breath and calm down, it’s gonna be fine, Betts.” 

She closes her eyes leaning her head back. He watches her face, watching every micro twitch on her face. She’s worried, anxious because she believes Veronica hates her but he knows it’s not true. Veronica can be stubborn but he thinks that maybe after tonight, they can make amends. It’s likely they won’t go back to being best friends but still, maybe there can be some semblance of closure, of forgiveness. 

He’s sure he’s never seen her jump up as fast when the doorbell rings. He grabs her hand as he stands up, squeezing it in his with a reassuring smile before making his way towards the door. 

In his mind, it happens slowly. The way Veronica walks in and faces Betty for the first time. Betty who is standing stiffly, in the middle of his living room, out of place for the first time in his home. They stare at each other and it feels like a tad dramatic to him, movie like but kind of when you think the time spent on a certain scene was way too much and now it’s just kind of uncomfortable to watch. 

In the end, it’s Betty who says something. “Hi, Veronica.” 

“You look...well.” Veronica shifts her weight from one foot to the other. 

“Thanks.” The blonde clears her throat. 

“Jesus Christ, this is awkward!” He laughs, because there isn’t a way not to laugh. They’re being ridiculous but his intervention is enough to get both of them to crack a smile. “Let’s just eat, please. I’m starving and Betty’s the one who cooked!” 

“Do you ever change?” Veronica rolls her eyes, following him to the table. 

“I may change but my apetite doesn’t.” He winks and he glances at Betty, who is still apprehensive even as they sit down on the table. “So, wine?” 

“Obviously.” Veronica tells him. 

Betty is too quiet, stuck in her own head, as he pours them all wine. And he sends her a look, encouraging her to say something, but he doesn’t know where he would start that conversation himself. Thankfully neither of them have to say anything else because Veronica jumps right in. 

“I want to forgive you.” She announces and Jughead tears his eyes away from Betty to look at her. “It’s...Jughead is right, I think.”

“Can I get that in writing?” He laughs softly and Veronica laughs with him, while Betty is staring at her wide eyed. 

“It’s difficult for me to deal with the fact that Archie never chose me.” She confesses. Jughead is surprised at how honest she’s being. He’s not sure what the last time he ever saw her like that. Vulnerable. “That he never really chose anyone. He just went right along with whatever was in front of him.” 

“Veronica...” Betty breathes out. He knows what she wants to say. That she’s sorry, that she doesn’t know what she was thinking, that she’ll never forgive herself. 

“I forgive you. We were kids and Jughead told me what was happening with you and I wish I could’ve helped before it all went down. I wish I’d been a better friend.” Betty’s eyes widen slightly in surprise at her admission. He is surprised himself. “I don’t excuse what you did. It hurt me. But you got handed the toughest hand in that hellhole town. And I’ve been thinking about everything and in the long run, at least I’m glad I was able to see who Archie really was. So, I forgive you. And that’s that on that.” In a very matter of fact way, Veronica takes a sip of her wine as Betty stares at her dumbfounded, speechless. “Well, don’t look at me like that. Wasn’t there food?”

Jughead shuffles to the kitchen to get the food while Betty, still speechless, gulps down her wine, while Veronica launches into a conversation about the latest even she’d planned for New York socialite. 

“Betty, will you just say something?” Veronica sighs, as they begin to dig into their food. “I know I did give you the most extra announced three years ago.” 

“You mean the email?” Jughead questions with a grin. “You sounded so professional.” 

The dark haired heiress rolls her eyes. “Yes. Extra, as I said.” 

“It was pretty extra.” Betty finds it in herself to put the words out there, causing the three to laugh. “But I deserved it. And that’s okay.” 

“It’s also okay to accept my forgiveness because trust me, it took a lot of thinking and tears to get here.” Veronica grabs Betty’s hand, over the table and smiles softly at her. “Can we start over, B?” The nickname is enough for start the waterworks.

Betty sniffles, wiping a tear that had escaped her. “Yes, please.” 

•

When Veronica leaves, it’s late, close to one in the morning but Betty still stays behind because she always does. Lying on the couch, with a grin on her face because being there felt good, it felt easy to finally not have the weight of Veronica’s anger on her, to have another piece of her heart back in her chest. 

“That was nice.” Jughead notes, as he comes back from walking Veronica to the door. He lifts her feet and sits down, placing them on his lap. She opens her eyes, smiling at him. 

“It was. It really was. She seems happy.” 

He nods. “She does.” 

There’s a pause. “Do you think...Archie regretted it?” 

He sighs softly, shrugging. “Maybe. After Veronica found out, their fight was nasty. Nastier than what happened with us. It was ugly.” 

“When it happened, I felt disgusting. But Archie was just looked confused when I rejected him. Looking back on it, it was like V wasn’t even on his mind.” 

“I think that’s what hurt her the most.” 

Betty nods, closing her eyes again. “What happened to Archie?”

“You mean at birth?” He jokes and she laughs. “Last I heard he was still in Riverdale. He did try out for the Naval academy but he didn’t get in.” 

“Was it the part where you have to use your brain that derailed him?” 

“Oof, ouch, Betty Cooper.” 

“Tell me I’m wrong.” 

He laughs. “You’re not.” She lets out a chuckle. After a few beats of silence, Jughead realizes he no longer feels any anger towards him, just a tinge of sadness. Sadness for their childhood memories and what he thought they had meant to each other. “I hope he grew up.” 

Betty takes a deep breath. “Do you want to know something I think about sometimes?” 

“What?” 

“If Fred was still alive, he would’ve talked some sense into him. I mean, a lot of what Archie did, throughout high school, not just the end, was stupidly impulsive and dangerous and I always felt our friendship slowly drift away.” She confesses. “And what he did to you. The road trip and how he made you feel about your dad just because it didn’t fit his narrow moral code. And the serpents. And the whole black hood thing.” 

Jughead hums, sighing softly. “I think Archie has always acted on impulse. And that moral, justice league type, code didn’t allow him to see anything from another perspective. You and I could never afford that.” 

His phone buzzes on the coffee table with an incoming call from Ava. Betty glances down at it. “She’s called you like five times.” 

“No biggie.” 

“Jug.” She narrows her eyes at him. 

He presses decline before Betty can get another word in. “Wanna play scrabble?” 

It’s five in the morning when she returns home.

•

Ava is sitting across from him. He’s stiff on her chair, in her living room. He would have to do this one way or the other. He would’ve like that to be in his apartment but she didn’t have the time and maybe she knew what was coming before he even called, so a comfortable setting was better. 

“It’s about Betty, right?” 

He sighs. “No. It’s about me not being able to give you what you want. You want a commitment and I’m not ready for that. At all. I’m far from ready.” 

“Tell me how Betty doesn’t play a part in this! You said so yourself! It’ll always be different because of her!” 

“Can we just not fight? We’re not right for each other. You’re great, Ava, you really are, but it’s not me you need. So I want to be honest and tell you I’m not looking to commit to anyone, I don’t want that.” 

As the words pour out of his mouth, he realizes how lighter he feels now that he’s said this. He’s worried for a while about this, about how this nice girl was literally just wasting time on him. It had been fun enough, but now it just wasn’t because she was looking for something he wasn’t able to offer. 

The notion that he’s actually breaking up with her should be clear enough by now he guesses, as he receives an incoming call from Charles. 

“I’m sorry, could you give me a moment?” He asks feeling like a jackass but Charles doesn’t call often and when he does it’s usually not very good. Ava is looking at him like he’s the biggest asshole in the world and he feels like it. “Hello?” 

The words that come from the other side of the line make his stomach drop, a feeling he hadn’t felt for so long making its comeback. The same feeling that was there whenever they ran into danger for the entire duration of high school. The same feeling when Betty and Veronica drank poison. The same feeling when Betty held a gun, pointed towards her father. The same feeling when said father chased her down high school hallways and he had found her hiding in a closet, completely broken. 

He bolts out of the door without Ava being able to say anything else because the one thing on his mind is her. His anchor. Forever is anchor. Forever the name on his lips. 

Betty had been shot. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, people of this fandom! Yet another update on this story! Hope you like it! Tell me what you think xx


	4. I’ve learned to lose you (not this time)

_ “You’re pretty good, Cooper.” Agent Diane smiles over at her.  _

_ Betty chuckles. “You have read my file, haven’t you?”  _

_ “Yes, but you’re good, still. Even with your past, it’s impressive. I can see what Charles was talking about.” Diane tells her. “With this case, with what was seemingly nothing, you saw things where we didn’t. And it’s lead us to all of this.”  _

_ There’s a pause, as they watch the warehouse gate, waiting for someone to pop out, anything to happen. Any bit of evidence would be vital at this point in the case.  _

_ “How the hell did you manage to figure those crimes out when you were 17?” Diane shakes her head, as if the thought had escaped her. “At 17, I’m pretty sure I just wanted to sneak out of my parents’ house to go make out with boys.”  _

_ With a shrug, Betty glances at her. “I was kind of thrown into it.” She explains. “Things happened to me, I didn’t really go looking.”  _

_ “Your hometown should be a case study.”  _

_ “You’re probably right.” She nods. “But I didn’t do it alone. I don’t think I could’ve, probably would’ve succumbed to darkness or something like that.” She jokes half heartedly.  _

_ “That’s good. No one that young should ever go through shit like that. I’ve seen enough with all the cases I’ve had. I can’t image what it’s like to be on the other side.”  _

_ “Not good, I’ll give you that.” Betty mutters under her breath.  _

_ “Glad you made it out, Cooper.” There’s silence for a few seconds, both of them just watching, in case anything were to happen. “Alright, I’m gonna check out back. Keep the comms open?”  _

_ Betty nods. “Sure thing, boss.”  _

_ She watches as Diane walks away into the distance. Everything is going fine, so far, they’ve seen two cars that match with their evidence, they just need a little more evidence before getting a warrant to break in and a buck load of other agents to storm inside. Who knows how many people could be inside. Their suspicion was that the kids were being kept inside and they couldn’t risk something happening.  _

_ “Well, this is fucking creepy.” She hears through the comms. _

_ “What is?”  _

_ “Dolls with no heads.” _

_ Betty laughs softly. “How many?” _

_ “A lot.” There’s a pause and she hears shuffling. “There’s an entrance, I’m going in.” _

_ “Are you sure? We have no idea what’s in there?”  _

_ “Well, I’ll find out.” An uneasy feeling settled in Betty’s chest, as she listens closely for what’s happening. “Shit, the kids are in here, I can see them. There’s two males, heavily armed-“ _

_ “Do I call for backup?!”  _

_ “There’s five kids, all close in age, I can see-“  _

_ There’s an abrupt cut off. “Diane?! Fuck! I’m gonna need some backup!” Betty curses as she hops out of the car, running to the ware house, she didn’t have a gun just yet so she was pretty sure this was the worst possible thing she could do but she usually just went with her gut and right now her gut was telling her she needed to go in.  _

_ The next few moments are a blur, Diane is getting beat up and Betty just lunges at the man, picking up a metal bar off the ground and wracking him in the head, Diane is heaving, but she tells her between breaths. “The kid...he’s gonna kill him.” She points in the direction of a door, inside she hears screaming. “Go! Go!” _

_ Betty runs in. The kid is on the ground, in a fetal position, she doesn’t think for a second, she doesn’t have a gun, she has nothing to protect her but the kid’s covered in blood and that’s the only thing she thinks about, she doesn’t think about the gun he’s holding until he’s pointing it at the kid, and even then, her thought isn’t to protect herself, it’s to place herself in the line of fire.  _

_ The bullet hits and the world goes dark a few seconds later, she’s not even sure she felt pain. _

•

Charles places a hand on his shoulder as he sits down beside him. “Alice and your dad are flying in tomorrow. There were no flights tonight.” He tells him quietly. There’s a nervous energy radiating off of him that Jughead thinks is rare. It’s only natural, he supposes, it’s probably not close to the excruciating pain he’s feeling, the tightness in his chest, but still, Charles is family. He’s the one who called Alice, he’s the one that had to call her and tell her that Betty was shot in the chest. That even after all that she survived, a bullet was still lodged in her chest. 

He nods weakly, his hands are still shaking. They haven’t stopped shaking. And he feels exhausted. Mentally, physically, all of the above. It feels as though the energy had been sucked out of his body. It’d been two hours since he’d learned of Betty getting shot and it’d been two hours of knowing little to nothing about her condition. Just that she was in surgery and that she had been shot in the chest. And those were two very daunting informations. 

“The kid’s okay. Agent Diane is pretty beat up but she’ll be alright.” Charles mentions. “She saved them.”

“How the hell did this happen?” Jughead breathes out. He hadn’t managed to ask questions, had merely stood there as Charles tried to explain Betty’s condition and then he was off talking on the phone to his bosses and whatnot and Jughead just couldn’t ask.

“She put herself in the line of fire to save the kid. We thought it was a simple stakeout, but Diane went in and then Betty made a last minute decision and saved her. She saved all of them.” Jughead sighs, face buried in his hands. “She did her job, Jug. She made a call and she went through with it.” 

“Give me a break, Charles.” He scoffs. “It doesn’t make it any better. Call me selfish but after all the times I almost lost her because we were saving people or keeping someone safe, I’d rather everyone else go to hell and keep her.” 

His half brother sighs, leaning back against the chair. “She knew the risk.” 

“She’s only here because she agreed to work for the FBI. Because you-“ A sob ripples through and Charles rubs his back. “It’s not fucking fair.” 

“She’s gonna make it. It’s Betty, she’s a fighter. She’ll make it.” He tries to reassure him. 

“I’m gonna get some air. Come get me if there’s any news.” He stands up, glancing back at Charles before making his way towards the exit. He wants to feel bad for snapping at him but right now he can’t get one thought straight.

It’s not fair. It’s not fair that after escaping every murderous event Riverdale threw out them, after leaving that black hole of a town, he was back to fearing for her life. He curses himself for not thinking about it before, for not thinking of her job, that she was in the FBI, that she was risking her life most days, this time for a living. And now he was living the ultimate nightmare. 

He couldn’t lose her. Not like this. Not when they just got back to being in each other’s lives. Not when she was laughing with him and no longer holding herself back. Back to some semblance of who they were. He refuses to accept it. Because he still loves her just as much as he did, yes. It’s been years of accepting that he may never truly stop loving her. That whatever he does, it’s always there and he’s lived with it for so long. He hadn’t felt ready to jump into things with her, he doesn’t want to still, he doesn’t feel as though he can fully give himself to her, because just as she never feels her worth, he never feels safe. But there’s a part of him that knows he’s hers all the same. And now, if the worst possible outcome was to happen then he’d lose her forever without having a second chance at a life with her. All because he’d been scared. 

Sometimes, he desperately wishes he could give himself over to someone else, completely, that there wasn’t a part of him that belonged to her, would always belong to her. Sometimes, he wishes his brain didn’t freeze up at the prospect of her figuring out there’s someone better for her than him. He wishes he didn’t have these thoughts. If she hated herself, then he always expected people to leave. That’s all people ever did, they left because there was something better to look forward too. And he knows that wasn’t Betty’s case with Archie, she was just lost. And he understands that. But he’d faced it a while ago that whenever something good happens in his life, he waits for the other shoe to drop. 

That wasn’t fair to her. He promised he’d help her forgive herself, that he’d help her love herself again. Betty was worth every bit of love in the world. And maybe he just sucked at communicating his love for her nowadays. Because she always doubted it. 

•

“ _Do you ever, like, I don’t know why I’m like this nervous, this is stupid.” She giggles into his chest, flustered._

_ “What?” He urges, laughing softly as he places a kiss to her head. It’s been a year of dating Betty Cooper and he’s not sure he can ever stop loving her with every bit of his being.  _

_ She snuggles closer into him, still grinning and he’s glad that at the very least, here in this perfect little bubble, there’s some semblance of peace. “Do you ever think about the future?”  _

_ His heart definitely skips a beat. “Like college or...?”  _

_ “The latter.” She smiles.  _

_ He smiles back as she looks up at him, green eyes so vulnerable. “I do.”  _

_ “Yeah?”  _

_ “Yeah, I do.” He nods. “With you in that future, obviously.”  _

_ “What do you see?”  _

_ “I see you. Being this investigative reporter, bad ass journalist and you being the only reason I don’t turn out to be a complete social recluse, just writing a book no one will ever-“ _

_ “You are a bestselling author in my head.” _

_ “Oh yeah?” He chuckles. “I’ll take it.” She kisses the skin on his chest, laughing softly. “Alright, so I’m an author now and we live in a really nice apartment cause you just said I’m a bestselling author.” _

_ “In New York.” _

_ “A nice apartment in New York.” He continues. “And we’ll have a dog.” _

_ “You’ll probably manage to get me to accept a food related name like Burger or -“ _

_ “Taco.” _

_ “Or Taco.” She snorts.  _

_ “So, we’ll go on walks with Taco and we’ll probably stop for breakfast and you’ll definitely feed Taco under the table cause you can’t resist those eyes.” Her laughter urges him to continue. “I’d like to think we’re married. Probably courthouse wedding, though Veronica would murder us.”  _

_ “I’ve never pictured a big wedding.” She confesses. “For us, I mean. Kind of figured we’d just elope at some point.”  _

_ He laughs. “Deal, Betts.”  _

_ “I wanna have mornings like this every day.” _

_ “I promise we will.” He murmurs. “We’ll get out of this town and and we’ll be happy. We’ll build our own family, one that doesn’t fall apart and we’ll be okay. We’re gonna be okay.” He promises. _

_ “I’ll never stop loving you, Juggie.”  _

_ His response to kiss her lips. He knew that their life wasn’t getting any easier from now on but he knew he had her and that was enough. She was quickly becoming his safe haven when everything got a little too much to handle. He could never stop loving her either, he was sure. Betty Cooper had his heart.  _

•

He sits outside for a good hour, just trying to be positive about the outcome of whatever was happening to Betty in the operating table. He tries desperately not to think about how insignificant their last conversation had been. She’d called, asked if he could bring over wine for dinner, a dinner that would never happen and he’d joked about how many bottles and she laughed and said they were adulting so hard, who would’ve thought? That after the hell they’d lived they could have a phone conversation that didn’t involve murder or someone wanting to murder them or whatever was happening straight out of a horror film? They had apartments and jobs and taxes and bills. And he didn’t tell her how much she meant to him. If he had known, god, he would’ve-

“Jughead!” Charles’ voice pulls him out of the maze he’s lost in and he’s brought back to where he is. Charles is running towards him. “There’s news!”

“How is she? Is she-“

“She’s okay!” He nods, breathing out. “She’s gonna make it! The bullet missed her vital organs! She has a broken arm cause she fell on it but she’s gonna be okay.” Charles manages a weak smile, he can see the exhaustion in his brother’s eyes so he pulls him in, hugging him, relief washing over him. 

“Fuck, I was so scared.” Jughead breathes.

“I know. I know.” Charles rubs his back, holding him tightly. “Our girl’s too strong for any bullet.” 

“Don’t say that too many times.” He murmurs. “Can I see her?” 

“In a bit, yeah, they’re moving her as we speak.” 

When he enters her room, it’s a little better than he expected. She still looks the same, it’s not as though anything else other than a gunshot had happened to her and he’s not prepared for the thought that comes next. He’s reminded of Riot night when he’d been beat up by every Ghoulie in town and she’d stood by his hospital bed, not knowing if he would wake up because his injuries were too much. How had she done that? How had she managed to see him so broken without losing hope. He’d been so beat up and she had been by his side when her own world was falling apart, when she was just 16 years old. 

He pulls up a chair to sit beside her bed, watching the rise and fall of her chest carefully and for the first time since he got the call, he feels like he can actually breathe. Leaning his head against the bed, he breathes out, eyes closed, takes hold of her hand, as if to anchor himself down. 

It takes a while for him to look up at her again, but when he does, he can’t stop the tears that stream down his face. The doctors had told him she was lucky, the bullet didn’t puncture any organs and her recovery would be easy, they’d just have to check for infection. It was just a matter of her waking up. But she could’ve died. Had the bullet hit half an inch to the left and it would’ve hit her heart and she’d be dead. 

Her situation was a simple one, thankfully. Her surgery was mainly to stop the bleeding and to remove the bullet, it only took longer because they couldn’t find the bullet at first. But she was fine. She’d be fine, in fact, her arm would probably take longer to fully heal than her wound. 

“Mmmh.” Betty wakes with a groan. 

“Betts?” He whispers. 

“Jug?” She whispers groggily. 

“Hey.” He smiles, breathing out softly. “Hey, Betts.”

“Where am I?” 

“Hospital. You remember what happened?” He asks softly, brushing a strand of hair off her face. She pauses, closing her eyes again, wincing as she tries to move. “Hey, hey, you should try not to move Okay?” She leans back against the bed, collapsing, exhausted, he’s sure.

“I got shot.” She mumbles, as if the memories are returning to her. 

He nods. “You did. How are you feeling?” 

“High.” 

Chuckling softly, he squeezes her hand. “Yeah, you probably are.” 

“You look tired.” She murmurs, reaching for him. He smiles weakly at her. “How long ago was it?” 

“A few hours.” He answers. “You were lucky, it wasn’t actually a major surgery.” Everyone had said so. She was lucky. It could’ve been worse. She was lucky. The bullet didn’t puncture anything vital. Lucky. The surgery was successful. Lucky. But she was still in a hospital with wound in her chest. Lucky that that’s the only thing that happened. 

“Good.” She nods. “The arm?” 

“You fell on it when you went down.” 

“Oh.” She stares at him curiously, hand still gripping his. “You still look pretty.” There’s a smile on her lips. “Even with that look on your face. Smile at me. I need it.”

He laughs softly, bringing her hand to his lips. He lingers on her skin, closing his eyes. “I thought I was gonna lose you.” He whispers.

She gazes at him with a frown. “I’m here though, aren’t I?” 

He reaches for her face, caressing her cheek. The moment takes him back to so many moments with her, of so many calms after too many storms. The only place he had ever felt truly safe had been beside her, his little piece of heaven on earth. And even after every storm, they were standing. Here, with each other, with the same love for each other. With chips on their shoulders and too many fears to be told, but standing. Still proud to love, to wish for a better world despite the darkness that had always plagued them. 

“You’re here.” He gets up from the chair to press a kiss to her forehead. “You should get some rest, Betts.” 

“You staying?” 

“Do you want me to stay?” 

“Always.” 

He stays, even though technically he isn’t allowed to. He falls asleep in the most uncomfortable chair in the world, holding her hand, dreaming of simpler times.

Alice and FParrive the next day. Betty is less groggy though she’s still on meds for the pain but not as strong as before. The doctors say it’s smooth sailing from here on out if she takes the necessary precautions. He’d already promised to himself he’d watch out for her. Betty tended to have this “I’ll do it myself” attitude when it came to everything, even when she was hurt. 

“You’re staying at Jughead’s, right?” Alice questions. 

“Yes, because apparently I can’t take care of myself.” Betty rolls her eyes. 

“You got shot, Betty.” Jughead responds, sighing, the argument they had yesterday making its comeback. He was a little irritated at her downplaying what had happened to her but he wasn’t letting her go through this alone, even if she fought tooth and nail.” You’re gonna need help. Plus, I have an elevator, you don’t.”

“He’s right. This shouldn’t be an argument, Elizabeth. You need someone with you.” Alice glances at Jughead before her eyes go back to her daughter. “Oh, Betty.” She breathes out shakily. Betty’s eyes soften. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if I had lost you.” 

“I’m okay, mom.” Betty murmurs. “I’m here.”

FP murmurs that he’s going to get coffee and Jughead follows him out. Betty and Alice deserve a moment alone. They’d come a long way, Jughead thinks. He wasn’t sure when he started seeing Alice as family, but she’d become just that. Betty’s relationship with her mother still had its moments, but nothing near what it used to be. Alice supported her now. Alice finally understood that her daughter needed another type of love, different than the one she grew up with. All Betty needed after years of violence was softness and kindness. It was instead of an “What were you thinking risking your life trying to be the hero?!”, a “I’m happy you’re alive. I’m happy you’re here. I’m happy I get to see you.” 

His father had looked so distraught as he placed a kiss to Betty’s forehead when he arrived, murmuring how relieved he was that she was okay. And it dawned on Jughead just how much they were all intertwined. A family. Ever since their senior year, when they had all come together, as dysfunctional as they were, they were still family. And he knew that with his relationship with Betty mended, everyone was a little happier. 

“So,” FP starts and Jughead pauses for a second, unsure where he’s going with the conversation. “Are you and Betty-“

“Dad.” He sighs. “This is really not the time for this.”

“So you are?” There’s a small excited look in FP’s face. 

“We’re not.” Jughead tells him. “We’re not together.”

“You still love her, so...”

“Jesus, dad...” Jughead breathes out. 

“What? I’m getting old, I’d like to see you two together again.” FP nudges his son. 

“You talk as if you’re eighty.” Jughead snorts and FP laughs, shrugging. “Betty got shot, dad, she could’ve died. I...that’s not exactly on my mind. I just want to make sure she’s okay, nothing else.” 

FP nods. “Okay. I won’t mention it.” He tells him. “Just...don’t be too stubborn.” Jughead doesn’t want to believe how clearly everyone can see how they feel about each other. “Either way, you two have a hard time staying away from each other. God knows, I want to erased everything I heard in that house.”

“Dad!”

•

“You ready?” Jughead questions.

“Yeah, all set.” He helps her off the bed, being as gentle as he possibly can. It’d been a week of being in the hospital and he knew she hated it, but now they were ready to get her home. Or Jughead’s apartment for the time being. 

“All your stuff is already at my place. I packed your clothes, your laptop and a few books. You can check if you need anything else and I’ll go and pick it up.” 

“You really don’t have to go through so much trouble, Jug.” She frowns, as they exit the room, walking slowly. 

“Do me a favor and shut up.” 

“Oh wow, a month of this, aren’t I so lucky?” She jokes, with a small smile. 

“How can you not want to live with me for a month, Betts?” 

“Because I know you leave drawers open and the toilet seat up. Don’t even get me started on the mystery of your lost socks. My mother went crazy with your laundry.” Betty rambles and he laughs. He’ll have to send Alice a thank you for that. 

“I solemnly swear I’ll be a well behaved roommate.” 

She hums, smiling. “You better be.” 

_ Anything for you, Betty Cooper.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took a minute there to update everything. With state of things, everywhere and in my personal life, I’ve been feeling a bit unmoored. Writing has always been my escape, but lately not even that. I’ve been educating myself as much I can and, listening. But this little chapter, I’ve managed to finish, hope it brings you some kind of comfort!


	5. The dam’s gonna give

His hand on her back is a steady reminder that she’s alive. Warm, strong, reassuring, that if anything were to happen, she could hold onto him. She feels relief wash over her when they enter his apartment. It’s nice to be somewhere other than a hospital room and for the next month, this would be her home. And if she really wanted to take it a step further, she could say she always felt at home with him. She’d always feel safe with him, no question. 

“I’m gonna put your stuff in the guest bedroom, okay?” 

“Oh! I can do that-“

“Betty, no!” He shakes his head. “You need to rest, so sit on the couch for a bit and then we’ll get you in bed, okay?” Placing a kiss to her head, he makes his way to the guest bedroom and she watches him walk away, ignoring the burn of his lips on her skin and how natural it felt to gravitate towards him. 

She sits on the couch, carefully, the sting of pain making her scrunch her face, breathe deeper than before, settling into a semi comfortable position. 

She’d like a shower, wash away the remnants of that day, wash away the remnants of her week. A part of her was surprise this was the first time she was actually in the hospital for something serious. She thinks of all the times she’d been checked by EMTs but had never actually gone to a hospital for her own injuries whatsoever. Fred, then Jughead, then FP, Fangs, her own mother, Polly. Countless visits for unclear outcomes. But she herself had never really been hurt enough. If you discounted every emotional bruise, she’d never been knocked out on a hospital bed, there had been no surgeries. Guess she can check that off the bucket list. 

There is no memory of the seconds before the gun was shot. The last thing she remembers is running towards the little boy, curled up on the floor. They had told her she had saved him, that she had saved Diane and the other kids. She’d been saving people for most of her life. In her mind, it had never been something to be applauded. It’s what you’re supposed to do. If you see injustice, if you can save someone, then you shouldn’t think twice about it. 

“Hey,” Jughead smiles softly, sitting next to her. “Do you want to eat something? It’s almost time for your meds?” 

She shakes her head. “I’d really like a shower, honestly.” Then she gulps, the logistics of said shower becoming quite clear when she sees the look on his face. “I don’t think I can do it alone, though.”

“Oh,” He utters, quietly. “I can help you. I promise I won’t look.”

She shrugs, flustered. “It’s not as though you haven’t seen it all before.” 

He pauses, choking out a small laugh. “No, no it’s not.” Clearing his throat, he rubs his palms on his jeans. “If you’re comfortable.”

How could she not be with him? It’s him. “I am.” 

“Okay. Then we can do that.” He nods, standing up and helping her up. 

While he gets her toiletries from the guest bedroom, hers for now, she fights herself on how exactly she’s supposed to take her clothes off and is now realising how in the world she thought she could go back to her apartment alone. “Um, Jug?!” She hears his footsteps quicken and she watches his face pop up in the door with a panicked look on his face. “I’m fine! I just...I can’t seem to take my shirt off.” 

His eyes widen slightly and he rubs his neck, she can tell this is awkward for both of them, obviously. In what world would anyone want to be taking their ex’s clothes off after all this time? On her part, the very thought of his hands on her body, even in her state, is certainly nerve wrecking, probably not the same kind of nerve wrecking as him, his is probably not the ‘you’re igniting every nerve on my body as you always have’. His is probably ‘I can’t believe I have to undress my ex and help her wash herself’. 

Stepping closer to her. “May I?” He answers softly, his fingers on the hem of her t-shirt. She nods and he lifts it off her body. “Can you raise your arm? I mean- not the broken one?” He huffs out a soft laugh. 

It hurts either way but it isn’t unbearable. She can handle the pain a lot better than him grazing his fingers against her side as he removes the T-shirt, throwing it to the ground. She’s highly aware she isn’t wearing a bra but she can’t quite cover herself completely. His eyes, however, she notices, don’t linger on, instead his gaze fixates on the bandage, a look she can’t quite decipher crossing his features.

“What?” She whispers. 

He looks up at her. “The bruising. Around the wound.” He murmurs. “I’m sorry, I just, I don’t know why my brain keeps thinking about this. I should focus on you getting better but I just...I could’ve lost you.” 

Placing a hand on his cheek, she frowns. “Here,” she takes his hand and places it on her heart, shivers running through her body at the contact. “My heart’s beating, Juggie. I’m here. I’m right here.” Somehow, they’re closer together and his forehead is against hers. She sees now how much this is affecting him, how much her getting hurt, hurt him. 

He breathes out, eyes closed. “Yeah.” 

She sits on the toilet while he gets a plastic bag to cover the cast on her arm, wrapping it up gently. “Your nurse said to keep your chest dry for the time being, so...I don’t know.”

Nodding, she glances up at him. “I’ll just wash that part with a wet towel, it’s probably better.”She tells him. 

“Right. Yeah.” 

She gets in the tub with his help, purposely not quite looking at her. “Is it too warm?” 

“No, it’s perfect, thank you.” She sighs. “It feels nice. It’ll be nice to not smell like a hospital.” 

He smiles. “I bet.” 

“Can you do my hair?” 

Taking the shower head from her hand, he shifts closer. “Lean back for me?” She does and he starts washing her. The feeling of his fingers on her scalp relax her in a way she hasn’t relaxed in a long time. And it takes her back to the past. They’d always had baths together. Nothing sexual, most of the time. It was more a need for a kind of intimacy they could only get with each other. To be with each other, skin on skin, just the feel of each other’s bodies, a silent reminder that despite the universe’s curse on them, they were each other’s anchor. He’d always wash her hair, knowing exactly how she liked to be touched. 

Jughead hasn’t forgotten about it. Because she can’t help but moan softly at how wonderful it feels. Even then, he doesn’t say anything. She can feel the energy radiating off of him, he’s nervous, cautious, so she guesses the memories must be spinning around his head as well. 

“All done.” She can feel the smile on his face through his voice, knows it’s the kind that is genuine but held back. His fingers ghost down her back, before pulling away from her. “I’m gonna get a towel, hold on.”

“I’m surprised you have multiple towels.” She jokes and she hears him laugh. 

“I’ll have you know, your mom sent me a bunch of them.” 

“Oh? Is it the same ones she sent me? Those are nice.” 

“She apparently thinks we both suck at adulting.” He places the towel on her back and he turns. “You do have pretty mugs though, so one point to you, Betts.” 

“Oh no, how will I survive your aesthetically unpleasant mugs and plates and whatnot?” 

He snorts. “Idiot.” She smiles up at him. “I’m gonna get you some clothes. T-shirt and sweatpants?” 

“Yeah. And um...underwear?” 

“Oh yeah, of course, right.” He laughs softly. 

“I’m sorry, is this too awkward? I feel like it’s awkward.” 

He looks at her with a strange look in his face. “It doesn’t have to be. Like you said, nothing I haven’t seen before. And it’s...I just want you to be comfortable.” 

“I’m comfortable with you.” She tells him. “Always.” 

She chooses to ignore the same look on his face again. Because it reminds her of the first time he kissed her. And she can’t quite deal with those thoughts nowadays. 

When he walks back into the bathroom, he’s staring right at her. In his hand, along with the sweatpants, is her T-shirt. An ‘S’ T-shirt she had selfishly kept for herself because it helped her sleep. A little piece of him with her every night. His eyes are trained on hers. 

“Jug...” She breathes out. 

“I didn’t notice when I got your things.” He says but his voice sounds strained. “I didn’t know you still had this.” 

“It helped me sleep.” She murmurs. “When I first got to New Haven.”  It still does.

He nods. “It’s getting old.” He offers her a small smile. 

With a shrug, she reaches for it. “It has its charm.” 

•

It’s on the second week that she wakes up to his screaming. Her heart nearly jumps out of her chest and if it wasn’t for her wound, she probably would’ve jumped up herself, but she stands carefully and then walks as quickly as she can to his room. He’s heaving, sobbing when she comes in.

She’s seen this too many times before. There was a time in high school when his nightmares got too much. He’d wake up screaming or she’d have to wake him up, hold him until he calmed down. Those nights, he wouldn’t let go of her, clinging to her, listening to her heartbeat. 

Getting closer, heart already aching because he’s hurting. “Juggie?” 

“Betts!” He sobs. “I-“ 

She sits on the edge of his bed. She wishes she could pull him to her, but she’s not exactly in the position to do so. He seems to clock that , even through the tears, and instead, moves so she can climb on the bed and he can lie down on her lap. “Oh, Jug...” She sighs, running her hand through his hair. “You’re okay. It’s okay.” She murmurs. She pauses for a second, it usually worked to just talk to him, about anything. “Remember how much we loved building those murder boards? Finding the links? It used to calm us down, right? Even in the middle of everything? That used to be the most mundane thing ever, sitting in our room, theorizing about whatever that town had thrown at us. It was always my favorite part of life there. Being with you. Fighting the darkest part of the world.” She notices his breathing becoming a little softer. “It wasn’t always like that, though, was it? I still remember riding my bike with you by Sweetwater River, I remember sitting on the ground, you reading your Baxter Brothers novel and me with my Tracy True. You’d read to me, doing all those funny voices. Remember when you got to the breakthrough parts and you got all excited even though you had already read it a million times?” She chuckles. “You really liked those cookies my mom made. It was rare that she did but I always brought you a couple to school the next day.” 

“Chocolate chip.” She hears his voice.

“Yeah, chocolate chip cookies. We always had them when you came over to study because I asked my mom to make them.” 

“You did?” His voice is small, like he’s back to being a frightened little boy.

“I did, Juggie.” She confirms. “And we’d go to Pop’s and you always ordered the chocolate milkshake.” 

“You ordered strawberry.” 

“I did.” 

He turns in her lap, so he’s looking up at her. The streetlights the only thing lighting the room. “I had a crush on you.”

“Juggie, we were in a relationship for three years.” She tells him with a smile. His breathing is calmer, though he’s still gripping her hand. But he’s talking so that means this episode isn’t so bad.

His voice is hoarse, but he’s looking into her eyes when he tells her. “Before. I mean before. Middle school.”

“You did?” 

“But you loved Archie and I...was just...you know.” He sniffles. 

“You never told me.” She murmurs, bring his hand to her lips. “I never loved Archie. I just had a crush on him. You know that, right?” 

“It’s okay.” He whispers. “I still got you” 

She frowns. “You still have me.” She says quietly. 

“Stay with me?” He asks her. His heart is wide open, she can see it, feel it like she has many times before. He’s vulnerable, holding onto her like he needs her and she’d never deny him. Ever. 

“Always.” She whispers. 

The next morning, he’s awake before she is. He’s typing away in the kitchen, laptop in front him, a coffee cup in hand. He looks beautiful, even if there are dark circles around his eyes. He looks beautiful. Messy hair, white T-shirt, eyes a little brighter in the sunshine. 

“Morning.” She calls his attention out. 

Looking up, he smiles. “Hi. You should be resting.”

“Ugh, I’m tired of staying in bed.” She groans. 

“I know but we have to make sure your stitches don’t tear open.” 

“They won’t tear just because I’m walking, Jug. Plus, I’m being very careful.” With a shrug, she makes a beeline for the coffee pot. “I no longer feel a 21st century woman.Can you get me a mug?” 

He laughs softly, coming up beside her to get her the mug. “Always at your service, Betts.” He kisses her head before returning back to his spot in front of the computer. 

Leaning against the counter, she watches him. He’s laser focused on whatever he’s typing. She wants to talk to him about last night. Wants to know if he’s still having nightmares, if they haven’t gone away. She hated every moment of having to watch him go through something like that again. It broke her heart. Jughead didn’t deserve it for one moment. All that had happened to him, to them, someone like him shouldn’t go through that. 

“You know, if you have something to say, say it.” He tells her, still typing. And she sighs softly, moving to sit beside him. 

“You still have nightmares.” She murmurs quietly. 

His hands stop typing and he turns to look at her. “Not exactly. I haven’t had them for a while.” 

“Then what brought it on?” The minute she questions it, she knows exactly what did. It was her. She should’ve known the moment it happened. Of course this would trigger memories. Of course her, unconscious in a hospital bed would make him go back in time to when everything was life or death. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise for that, please.” 

“What was it this time?” She questions, reaching for his hand. 

“It was kind of everything at once. The black hood, Penelope, even the freaking gargoyle king.” He shook his head. “I lost you. You were bleeding out and they were all standing around you and I couldn’t get through. And then you were in my arms and you wouldn’t wake up no matter what I did-“

“Oh, Jug...” She frowns, tears welling up in her eyes. 

“I guess, you getting shot, it messed me up a little...” He breathes out. “But you’re okay. That’s what matters. And I’m gonna try to focus on that, as much as I can. It’s just...when I got that phone call, Betts...it was like being back in high school and the world imploding around us and we were just running against the clock every day.” He pauses for a second, pondering over his next words and what had been on his mind for the last couple of weeks. “But Charles is right. This is your job. I kinda wish you had a different one, but I know this is what you love.” 

Her brows furrow. “Jug...”

“I just mean that...I didn’t think about it before, how dangerous your job is and I...it scares me. You’re my best friend in the world and I can’t lose you. Just the thought of it-“

“You’re not going to lose me. I’m okay.” She tells him. “And since I am officially an FBI agent, I do have my own gun now, so-“

“You didn’t have a gun?!” 

She pales. “I um...no. I didn’t.” 

“Jesus Christ, Betty.” 

“But Diane and the kids are safe and that’s worth getting shot. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I knew I could’ve done something and didn’t.” 

“I know.” He sighs. “I know that. It’s just...you mean too much to me.” At his admission, she tries to avoid the feeling that curses through her like wildfire. Trying to convince herself of the fact that what she feels isn’t the same as he feels, it couldn’t possibly be because that would be too much to handle. “And I can’t stand the thought that it could’ve been worse. And that you’ll go out there again to do your job and it might happen again.” 

Sighing softly, she looks at her hand in his. Always holding on. “I’ll do my best to catch every criminal before it gets to that. I promise.” 

He lets out a soft laugh. As if to say he doesn’tdoubt it. Betty Cooper’s brain was surely above average and her perseverance was nothing short of astonishing. She knows it’s a scary thing, to know something could go wrong at any given time. She felt it every moment Jughead was at Stonewall prep or basically every other moment during high school. But people get hurt everyday, sometimes just walking down the street and yeah, her job is dangerous but every job is dangerous. It is America after all, who knows what lunatics with guns will do. Even his job is dangerous. Who knows what kind of people read his book? There’s been no shortage of writers getting stalkers, delusional fans, obsessive fans. The world is a dangerous jungle and they just have to live in it and find the little pockets of hope and happiness. 

“I’m just happy you’re alive.” Jughead murmurs after a beat. “I’m always happy you’re alive.” 

Her heart flutters in her chest and she wonders how she’s supposed to survive any longer without kissing him. 

•

Betty gets better, she moves more freely now but Jughead is still hesitant to let her truly do anything on her own . Showers are still a bit complicated with only one arm, but at least her free one is fully functional and it doesn’t hurt extending it, in fear of the wound on her chest. Her visit to the doctor’s office let her know it was healing nicely, no infections, the tissue was healing pretty quickly. No stitches, which meant everything was going as it should. 

Jughead is glancing at her every few moments in the car, as he drives. He’d been nervous and skittish every moment they were in the hospital and she couldn’t miss the relief on his face when the doctor said everything was going well. He’d been hovering less and less, no longer worrying when she decided to walk around the apartment. They went on walks together around the block, because she needed some kind of physical activity so she counted that as a win. Jughead had never been this attentive or rather, worried to the point of her getting a little annoyed at times. He’d always been a caring, loving boyfriend who was concerned with her well being, especially since her mental health usually plummeted every week. But this was different. 

“Jug, what is it?” She sighs. “I’m fine! See?!Doctor said I was fine, so what is it?” 

There’s a pauses, he gulps, hands gripping the wheel. “Am I smothering you?” 

“What?” 

“Am I...Is it too much?” He questions. He sounds so vulnerable, so self conscious. Jughead of now was a lot more confident than he’d ever been. He’d grown into his own and you could see how different he was. This Jughead reminds her of him in the weeks before their first kiss. 

She leans back against the car seat and then turns her head to him. “Sometimes.” She answers honestly. “I just...I’ve been alone for a while. I haven’t...I’m not used to people caring for me and you’ve been so wonderful, you really have but I’m just not used to it.” 

“I’m not doing it to-“

“I know it’s because you worry. I know it’s scary.” She reassures him. “But you need to understand I’m okay. That the worst part is over.” The way he’s looking at her forces her to look away, the gaze entirely too intense as the car comes to halt in front of his apartment building. 

She’d be blind if she didn’t notice the growing tension between them. She had tried to ignore it because all it was was probably just sexual, pure sexual tension after weeks of him watching her naked, of touching her and that was too much to think about. It’d been getting a little more complicated to resist the thoughts that plagued her mind now the pain was gone and her mind didn’t have much else to do. The memories of before. She knew, if anything, they’d always be sexually compatible. There was no denying the fact. He had always made her feel amazing in bed and she knew she had done the same. Push comes to shove, if there is no romantic link anymore between them, she knows she isn’t bad looking and Jughead had always been incredibly fond of her body, to put it lightly. She still remembers exactly what he likes, she guesses that doesn’t really change. And when she touches herself, wanting to find some relief that would never compare to him, she thinks back to them. A dangerous path, nonetheless, but she reckoned nothing could ever come close

He doesn’t say another word though. He helps her out of the car, she refrains from insisting that she can do it alone. There is something else in the air than his usual concern for her wellbeing. And it terrifies her that she still knows him. That it hasn’t changed. That Jughead is still Jughead, only older and sometimes, lighter. The boy she’s known for most of her life is still there. She still knows how his mind works and the sudden notion of it startles her. She’d somehow convinced herself that things were different, that it was all different,  _ they _ were different. But that wasn’t true. It wasn’t true at all. It’s like everything that was blurry is now crystal clear. Because she knows exactly what the look on his face means when they walk into the apartment. 

Once the door shuts and she takes her jacket off, walking further inside and he’s staring at her. She sees it very clearly. 

He wants her. 

He  _ wants  _ her. 

“Betty?” 

No. She wouldn’t make it past this month. It’s laughable to think she ever could. 

But maybe, he couldn’t either. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooof managed to write this! I’m not sure about it but decided to post anyway! Let me know your thoughts!


	6. Gasoline, pretty please

“Betty?” 

The way she looks up at him, only pushes him forward and his lips are on hers before he has a chance to control himself or think about the consequences. In a moment, he presses her against the door. He has to remind himself not to press himself to her too hard. He knows she’s better, that the wound is sealing up but he’s still mindful of it, even in this haze he’s found himself in. So he’s gentle, kissing her as if that could somehow fix everything. 

“Jug..” She breathes out in a moan as his lips travel down to her neck. God, this is so wrong. This is so unbelievably wrong. He shouldn’t be doing this. But he feels like his skin his on fire, he’s  felt like his skin has been on fire for weeks. Being so close to her again was like being in the past yet nothing like the past. It was memories of touching her, of her hands on him. It didn’t help that he was the one helping her bathe. Obviously none of that was supposed to be remotely sexual but his brain was failing him. Half of him feels like he’s taking advantage of her, but the other half feels like maybe this was the tipping point for both of them and they desperately needed to get it out of their system. 

He doesn’t pick her up as he used to, instead they travel between kisses to his bedroom. Neither really say a word other than the whisper of each other’s name. He finds that everything they do is etched with remnants of the past. The way her fingers grab onto his hair, the way he knows the sweet spot on her neck and the way his body knows that it’s her. It’s never like this with anyone else, it could never be in any space or time. The feeling that bloomed in his chest couldn’t possibly compare to anything else. Being with her felt like home, like a puzzle piece seamlessly fitting in, belonging there. 

It’s a dance they know perfectly. Perfectly in sync, no words needed as takes her clothes off, listens to the hitches in her breath, the look in her eyes, as he presses kisses to her body, lips lingering on the bandage on her chest, beneath it would soon be a scar she’d probably have for a long time, if not forever. So he takes extra notice, extra care, looking up at her as if telling her again, because he’ll never tire of saying it, that he’s glad she’s alive, he’s glad her heart is beating beneath his lips. 

When he finally sinks into her, he doesn’t take his eyes off her, finding their rhythm again. But he knows there’s a difference. He feels it as her eyes close. It’s different because he knows she’s holding back, knows he’s holding back. Before, he would pour all his love into her. Now, there’s everything else between them, the past, the hurt, the little cracks in the armor they built for themselves and it feels a little like torture to feel so much relief. 

He wants to smile, but there’s a lump in his throat as her eyes roll to the back, her moans echoing off the walls. He leans down to press his lips to hers, just as her fingers dig into his back. He knows she’s close and he is too, but he reaches between them to get her there faster. 

“Jug...” She moans, eyes opening wide. 

“Come for me.” He breathes out against her ear. And she comes undone, just as he loses his rhythm. “Fuck!” Time slows, he grips her hips, face buried in her neck, grunting as he reaches his climax. 

Still inside her, both of them breathing heavily, he collapses on top of her for a second and then pushes himself off to lie beside her. They’re both silent, looking up at the ceiling. 

His eyes widen as he realizes. “Shit, we didn’t use a condom.” 

“Oh!” She mumbles. “I’m on the pill.” She tells him and he nods, gulping. “You’re...” 

“I’m clean.” He answers. 

Pausing for a second, she breathes out. “I’m gonna go get cleaned up.” Just as she’s about to go in the bathroom. “Jug?” 

He sits up on the bed, turning his head towards her. “Yeah?” 

“This doesn’t have to mean anything you don’t want it to.” 

He pauses, eyes boring into her hers, knowing full well it could never not mean anything. “Right.” 

“Right.” She whispers and walks into the bathroom without another word. 

He stares at the door, feeling like he doesn’t really know what that means. Not even knowing what he wants this to mean, but knowing that if it was difficult to keep his mind off her before, now it would be impossible. 

•

Standing in front of the mirror, looking at herself, her image almost like a distant memory, she cries. It’s supposed to be everything she wanted. His lips on hers again, his body against hers. Instead, as soon as it ended, her chest felt empty. She feels like she can’t recognise herself, the inevitability of them, of him, makes it all so much harder. Harder to let go of this. And still, she knows she’ll go back. Knows that he could snap his fingers and she’d be there. 

And fuck, that feels worse than anything. Her inability to say no to him, even in detriment to her own feelings. Her permanent fear of losing him is too much to bear, the thought of being alone again with no one who understands her, frightens her to the very core. Loneliness has been the constant in her life for the past 4 years, if there’s anything she’s known well is being alone. She’s done alone and she doesn’t want to anymore. Loneliness sometimes clings to you and you want to cling to it, because before you take note of what happens, loneliness becomes apart of your identity. And losing parts of yourself terrifies you because when you do, you’re bare again and you have to go in search of what you are. Loneliness doesn’t leave, maybe that’s a comfort everyone has. Maybe loneliness can become your everything too. 

What happens if she says no, if she tells him she loves him, what if he calls and she’s not there? She loves him, she knows him, knows he cares about her, that he’s taking care of her, but even with his kindness, with the goodness she knows is in his heart, caring for her isn’t loving her, it isn’t what their love was. The past isn’t the present. And feelings change. He’s been with other people. Maybe he’s figured out that there’s someone better out there. 

She knows immediately the answer her mind supplies, because if there’s a chance he loves her still or has fallen again, then she’ll be whatever he wants her to be. 

•

It’s how it starts. 

With a “right” that means nothing. And a new need for each other that only stops when they’re in bed. Or on the kitchen counter. Or on the couch. Perhaps it never stops. It’s an endless loop of thinking of her, of how it feels to be buried inside her. 

With her wound getting better, closed up but only sore now, no stitches, all that’s left for them to awkwardly move around is her broken arm. But nothing stops them, it feels impossible to stop anything now between them. Betty’s in his house, she’s in his head, she’s everywhere and it doesn’t help when she sinks to her knees because she finally can, while he’s sitting on the couch. The new image replacing the ones of the past of her mouth on him. 

“Betty.” He moans. Her mouth is wet around him. The way she’s looking at him, only brings him closer faster as he fists her hair, no longer keeping the sounds inside him. It’s sinful, how good it feels. 

Betty point blank asked her doctor if she could have sex in her previous appointment, even though they were already having sex, but their doubts were put to rest. The only thing they needed was to not go too crazy. And although sometimes all he wanted to do was go a little harder and he knew she did too, they controlled themselves. 

But they never talk about it. Truly, all they’re doing is living in a bubble. They don’t discuss the fact that it’s happening at all, in fact, they pretend it isn’t when they’re not kissing or touching or moaning each other’s names. 

So, when he comes in her mouth, she swallows, stands up, wipes her mouth, sits on the couch and asks what he wants for dinner, while scrolling through her phone. And as he zips up his pants and says something like (he thinks) pizza, he feels disgusting for not kissing her and whispering his love for her. It’s wrong.

•

“Who keeps texting you?” He chuckles, watching the phone vibrate on the coffee table as Betty ignores it. He’d been writing on and off, answering emails while she’s watching TV. 

“What?” She looks up at him and then at the phone. “Oh! It’s this guy from work. He’s using my injuries as an excuse to talk to me. He’s asked me out too many times. I always say no.” Rolling her eyes, she places the phone back down. 

He furrows his brows. “Why? Is he like creepy or some shit?” 

“No. He’s nice. I just...” 

“You should do it.” 

She pauses. “What?” 

“Date other people.” He doesn’t want her to date other people but maybe they can disentangle themselves from this mess because his mind has been scattered and he feels on edge most of the time, like they’re on the brink of something yet never there. 

“Do you want me to date other people?” She questions. 

“Do I want- What does this have to do with me?” 

“I...”  _ well we’ve been fucking for a month and we still haven’t talked about it. _ “I don’t know. You’re right.” 

“Maybe it’ll be good for you.” 

She frowns. “Well, I don’t want to date other people. But if you want me to, I’ll...”

“Stop, this isn’t about me.” He snaps, she stills, eyes cast downward. 

“Okay. I...” She sighs softly. “Okay.” She says and he feels like he’s in some odd limbo because for a moment, it’s like she disappears into herself, a shadow of what she used to be. It’s like she’s scared to fight. Like he’ll run off at any given moment and he hates that. It should never be like that between them. But she’s always scared of saying the wrong thing. 

“I’m just...you haven’t seen anyone since...” Running a hand through his hair, he looks away. She doesn’t say anything at all, she doesn’t meet his eyes. But Jesus, maybe he’s right, maybe she should just fucking leave him on his own, maybe they should figure out how to be without each other. Maybe this is all just the wrong thing to do and say and he doesn’t know how to make things feel right between them. “Just forget I said anything.” 

Sighing softly, she looks up at him, her eyes look sad, his heart aches. “I’m going for a walk.” She announces before standing up. He doesn’t make any effort to stop her, maybe they do need an out of this infernal conversation he started. “I think I’ll...I’ll go to my apartment tomorrow.” She tells him. “I’m mostly healed up now so I should just stop bothering you.” 

“You’re not bothering-“

“It’s fine. You don’t have to keep taking care of me, it’s not like you’re supposed to, we’re not together. You don’t owe me anything.” The worst part is how she says it, like he has some sort of power over her, like it doesn’t matter what she feels and how he feels like an asshole when he’s doing this. 

•

_ “ You should do it.”  _

_ “You haven’t seen anyone since us.”  _

In other words. 

_ “Just figure yourself out and stop clinging to me.”  _

_ “I don’t love you anymore.”  _

_That’s all it could be, right? Because that’s what it is, Betty. You said so yourself. “This doesn’t have to mean anything you don’t want it to.” And clearly he doesn’t want it to be. Why are you tying him down? He deserves better than you, you’ve hurt him, he deserves someone good. Someone with no ghosts haunting them_. 

Or maybe not.

Her Jughead. The love of her life. He’d always be the love of her life. Maybe it was for the best, ending things before her heart becomes irreparably broken. Maybe she does need to figure herself out. Who she is without him. Perhaps she needs to forgive herself for what she’s done and maybe that forgiveness needs to happen without him. 

She was a kid. She was a kid and she was traumatised and she made a mistake. A mistake she immediately regretted and he’s forgiven her, it’s been years, he’s forgiven her. They’re different people now. Maybe she can accept the forgiveness he extended so open heartedly. 

Her head has been spinning for the past month but maybe that’s the thing. They’re not ready for a relationship. He’s not. They’re not ready to jump headfirst into what’s left, into this love of theirs that still burns bright inside her. The thing is that maybe they do need to be without each other, but with no past mistakes, with a clear conscience. 

So, she decides, standing in the middle of the street a block away from his apartment, that one last goodbye to this last month is a good send off to this new discovery of hers. That she needs to be alone. But without the loneliness. 

•

He sits in front of an empty page for two hours. The heat from the computer is burning through his jeans and Betty’s sweater is on the back of the couch and he wonders why he decided to blow it up. 

He’s about to stand up and go look for her when she comes back. There’s a look on her face he can’t decipher but she walks to him and presses her lips to his. And they have sex and it feels a little like before, maybe something is opening up and he can love her like he used to. 

They’re lying together in each other’s arms. He’s holding her tighter than he had just that morning. But he can’t read what she’s feeling. And she doesn’t tell him. And it feels distant. Like she’s shielding herself. And he believes that maybe she’s afraid that if she admits to the words she’d whispered in her drunken state on New Years, the skies will fall down on her. He knows that it feels logical to shield yourself when you don’t want to implode. But maybe she doesn’t know that in her kiss, he feels like he can breathe again. Sometimes he wishes it wasn’t like that, sometimes he’s sorry that he forged fire in her heart but it wasn’t as though he had consciously decided to let her take over his.

He makes a split second decision to tell her he loves her. Because he admits it to himself that it’s an inescapable fate. And he needs to tell her. 

“Do you still think about us?” He whispers.

“Us? You mean...” 

“Before. All those years ago.” 

She lets out a shaky breath. “Yes.” She tells him. “It was my everything.” She doesn’t tell him it still is in that moment. 

“Can I say something?” Betty nods her head in response and he presses a kiss to her head. 

“I sometimes think, think that maybe we bypassed the whole dating aspect of our relationship. Maybe we loved too hard, too fast. We went from innocent first kisses to a desperate need for comfort within each other with everything that was happening. From first date straight to basically married life. We lived together and we were happy because that was the only stability we knew. Some semblance of normalcy. I was happy, Betts. I was so happy to be with you.” 

She pauses, looks up at him. “I wouldn’t have changed it. Our relationship. I wouldn’t trade what we were for anything. Just wish I could change the ending.” 

“It wasn’t the ending. Otherwise you wouldn’t be naked in my bed.” 

She smiles a small smile, but he can tell there’s more to it. “Well, yeah but this is different.” 

“How?” 

“As far as I know, we’re not in a relationship.”

“I think we both know it could never be just sex with us.” 

“Jug...dangerous territory there.” She warns, sighing softly. 

“Maybe I don’t want it to be.” 

“You don’t?” Betty sounds like she’s afraid to believe it. 

“I still love you. But you know that, don’t you? It’s never like this with anyone else. I’m never...myself with anyone else.” 

“It’s different now.” She argues and his heart is beating so fast in his chest, he barely knows what to do with himself. “I’m a different person.” 

Then Ill love whoever you are.  “It doesn’t matter.” 

“I’m not that girl anymore.” 

“She’s still there.” 

“I’m weaker.” 

“You’re the strongest person I know.” His face is so close to her, she can feel his breath on her skin, slowly pulling her closer. “I want you. I want a thousand versions of you if that’s what you say you are.” 

“Jug...” she says his name like a prayer, eyes closed as he places a delicate kiss to her cheek, traveling across her face with his lips, small pecks on her eyes, her forehead, her nose. And then pausing to look at her. “I don’t think we should.” 

He stills as the words fall from her lips into the quietness of the room. “What?” 

Gulping, she takes a shaky breath. “I’ve been thinking about this. About us. It’s all I’ve been thinking about really. How I’ve been...torturing myself.” 

“What are you talking about?” He pushes himself off her so he sits beside her, leaning back against the bed frame. 

“I’ve never stopped loving you for one second.” She breathes out. “And I watched you. With Ava. And it hurt. But I always hoped someday you’d want me. Even after I hurt you. I was selfish enough to want you.” 

“Betty...” 

Holding back tears, she grips his hand. “I can’t be with you. Not when every aspect of how my day goes depends on you. I’ve been depending on you for years. My mental health, it’s depended on you. I can’t separate who I am from you. And I don’t think that’s healthy.” She confesses. And he’s quiet. “I don’t think you understand how everything you do impacts me. And it shouldn’t. That’s the point. You were right.”

“So, you need me to...” 

“I don’t know. I’m sorry.” She closes her eyes, putting a hand over her mouth to muffle the sob. “When I was at Yale, I spent every day suffocated by guilt and just...sadness and I...got lost in that. I lost parts of who I was because I based myself on this moral scale of absolute bullshit.” She shakes her head, glancing at him. “And then you came back. And you forgave me and I couldn’t accept it. I couldn’t accept your forgiveness. I think I have now. And I think I can see myself deserving more than what I set out for myself. But not until I can figure myself out, without you. Who I am.” 

He understands. It doesn’t make it any better but he understands. Hates the power he knows he holds over her. He understands. She sits beside him, in silence and he doesn’t want to understand. He wants to be selfish, wants to beg her to stay because he knows she will if asks enough. But he recognises that this is her own path. And this isn’t rejection. It’s progress. 

Maybe they do need to be without each other. 

“I’ll always love you.” He confesses, grabbing her hand, intertwining their fingers. 

She breathes out shakily before looking at him. I’ll always love you too.” The murmur sounds like a promise and he holds it close to his heart before lifting her hand up to his lips. Her eyes close, her head falls onto his shoulder, he’s missed loving her. 

“We’ll be okay.” He whispers. 

He doesn’t know how long they sit there, together, quietly. But day turns to night and Betty retreats to the guest bedroom with a kiss to his forehead, lingering lips on his skin before she slips out the door. 

It’s not enough. But there’s a promise of a future, somewhere. Perhaps they’ll love harder when the time is right, but this time forever. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof it’s been a while but hey, I did it ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ Hope you like it! Gotta make them suffer a little more! Tell me what you think!


	7. Tell Me How To Be

He goes to therapy. 

It isn’t as though it hadn’t been on his mind for a while, but if anything, being with her again made him realize how many things he pushed down, kept locked away and decided he was fine with it. He thought everything would be fine but he forgot the feeling, the thrill of being with her and he also forgot about how much it hurt to remember the past. So the week after Betty walks out of his apartment, he chooses a therapist. And for two weeks, he’s found that a lot has become clearer. Not everything is magically fixed but it’s a step and that’s always the most important part of progress. 

“Um...I think I...hurt her.” He breathes out, admitting it to himself.

“How so?” 

“I knew she loved me and I knew I loved her and I didn’t tell her when she needed me to. Almost like, I took advantage of that. Her fear of losing me worked as a shield for me. For my own crap....It’s fucking disgusting.” He shakes his head, sighing. “I feel ashamed that...it happened the way it happened.” 

“You mean sleeping with her?” 

“Even things with Ava too. It’s like because of this thing inside me, my trauma of people abandoning me, I shut them out. And with Betty...whenever I’m near her, it’s like there’s this pull that I can’t resist. We’re...tethered.” He explains, but he can’t put efficient enough words to describe what he’s feeling. 

“I read your book.” Dr. Martins smiles softly. “I hope that doesn’t cross the line between doctor and patient. Before you were a client. But it gives great insight into how to view relationships and the world. It is autobiographical, as you’ve mentioned.”

Jughead laughs softly. “You psychoanalysed me through my book?” 

Dr. Martins shrugs with a smile. “I want to help you as much as I can and you’ve said so yourself that sometimes articulating out loud what you’ve gone through isn’t as efficient as when you write.” 

“Okay...then, what have you discovered, doc?” 

She looks down at her notes before looking up at him again. “It seems to me that just as Betty told you, her identity is tied to you. Yours is tied to her. And reading your book, it almost feels like you’ve put her on this pedestal-“ 

“I’ve never-“ 

“Not intentionally. You’ve loved Betty for most of your life, even before she was with you. And as a kid who struggled with being loved and lacked someone taking care of him, when you finally...the term is reductive but when you finally got her, it was as if receiving a blessing in the middle of all the chaos, like you’ve said, in your life. That stability, the steadiness of someone.”Dr. Martins pauses. “To you, Betty could never do no wrong and not in a way of you dismissing every mistake she made, before Archie, but in the way that, while you accepted her flaws and you helped her out of the patterns of what the world thought she should be, you saw her as someone above you.” 

“Above me?” 

“There’s this pattern when you write about her. Your love for her is evident, but there’s something, something bigger. When you put her up in this pedestal and you see her as something other than human, with very heavy flaws, it solidifies the image you have of yourself. So, when this fear you had, of her choosing Archie, came true, you never saw it as her mistake, but yours. You say it often in the book. Of course it had to be him. Of course I’m the second choice. You question what you could’ve done differently. That’s your first thought.” 

“What does that have to do with what happened now?” 

“Think with me. Like Betty supposedly had this idealised version of Archie, you had one of her. Obviously you know her now, you’ve grown up together in, frankly, some of the wildest circumstances I’ve heard in my career. But what happened with Archie, when she betrayed you, it was more than just a kiss to you, it was everything you feared happening at once. This perfect version of your dream girl crumbling. Her choosing Archie in that moment. The affirmation that you could never be good enough to be someone’s first choice. The cycle perpetuating itself again.”

“And now?” 

“The way I see it, It’s this subconscious knowledge that you have her. That she’s suffered from one mistake so deeply and that she’s still in love with you, that she would do anything for you. You know that. And this power you have over her is something you’ve never felt towards your mother and your father and even the Betty you knew before.”

“Doesn’t that make me the ultimate piece of shit?” 

Dr. Martin shifts in her chair, inching forward. “It makes you a human being.” She answers simply. “Obviously it’s a narrow point. Obviously what happened during that month isn’t just a power play. It’s more than that. It’s the fact that you almost lost her completely and it brought back memories. That she almost died. That she needed you to take care of her. Does that make sense?” 

He sighs softly, looking down at his hands. Dr. Martins might be onto something. The knowledge that she was so completely his made him want for her to need him. Even as he hates that power over her, there’s a sick twisted part of his brain that toys with the idea that for the first time in his life, she wouldn’t leave him. That she wouldn’t abandon him, push comes to shove. Even if they’re distanced at the moment. 

“It does.” 

“Jughead, you’re both deeply traumatised, with life experiences only you two can really relate to. Codependency can be dangerous for people like you. It can be dangerous for anyone. But you’ve been through hell and back and when you were still in Riverdale, she was the only constant thing for you, the only time you felt safe was with her. When you remove Riverdale and every crazy event that happened during your time there, it can be hard to understand how you fit into her life.” 

“I know. Like we don’t know what it’s like to have a relationship in the real world.” He nods, running a hand through his hair. “That was all I wanted before. But maybe us breaking up, one way or the other, maybe that had to happen.” He ponders. “So, what do I do?”

Dr. Martins smiles. “I just make observations, I don’t have the answers, Jughead. That being said, you came to an agreement, you and Betty. She told you she needed distance and time to figure herself out.” 

“I think...I need that too.” 

•

“You okay?” Veronica questions, eyeing Betty’s face in search of any sign that might tell her something. 

Betty nods her head, smiling softly. “I will be.” 

“I talked to Jug. He didn’t exactly say anything explicitly, just that it’s complicated right now.” Veronica tells her. 

Betty’s thankful for the effort V’s putting into mending their friendship. They’d been talking everyday, especially after Betty’s close encounter with death, Veronica was ready to jump on a flight but she had stopped her, insisting everything was ok and that they would see each other soon. But Veronica still came. 

“We’ll be okay. We just...need a little a distance.” 

“Really?” 

“Yes. I need to work on myself a bit and I realised I need to to that alone and that if I still cling to him, I’ll just get worse.” 

“Did you-“ 

“We slept together.” Betty confesses, breathing out. “Many times and it didn’t feel the same, V. It felt desperate, like I was trying everything to get him to love me again and I...I don’t want that for me or for us. If we ever find our way back to each other, I want it to be out of love, not out of this need for each other we seem to have. It’s not...healthy. It’s never been like that with us.” 

Veronica’s face softens and she grabs Betty’s hand. “I’m proud of you. Stepping away must’ve been difficult.” 

“It’s hardest decision I’ve ever made.” Betty’s sniffles. “But I think I’ve centered myself around him for too long and now I just need to let go.” 

“I get that.” Her friend nods. “I want you to be happy. And I’m happy we’re friends and that I decided to forgive you. You deserve happiness, Betty. We all do.” 

“You have no idea how glad I am I have you back in my life, V.” 

Veronica squeezes her hand, a smile on her lips. “This time for good.” 

•

They don’t completely cut off communication. First, because it makes virtually no sense to deny themselves a quick catch up every week, just to check on each other, they care for each other deeply and at the moment, they’re friends, who are giving themselves space to breathe. Socially, they see each other at the bar everyone hangs out at and they joke and laugh together and it doesn’t hurt. There’s birthday parties and dinners and they’re friends and it feels better to not be burdened by the weight of the past, to have it all out in the open. There’s an urge, at times, when the alcohol gets him hazy enough, he wants to kiss her but even drunk, he doesn’t. He wants to be better for her. He wants to do right by her decision and the fact is that once he focused his attention on himself, working inward, he felt a change, even if he wasn’t with her, he still loved her. But he could live without her.

He supposes the notion that he can live without her constant shadow should feel scarier, it should upset him. But it doesn’t and he hopes she finds that she can live without him too. Because it doesn’t hurt, they’ve forgiven each other and they love each other. 

It’s not like before. There isn’t the frightening fear of her not loving him or abandoning him, there isn’t the grappling fear of danger around them. They’re out of Riverdale, they’ve grown up. They have jobs and they’re good at them. They pay bills and have normal friends and it’s okay to live a life on their own. They don’t need to depend on each other for a glimpse of happiness, they can find it within themselves. 

Jughead can live without Betty. 

But he doesn’t want to. 

They’re friends. They talk. They live a life outside of each other. Betty’s officially an FBI agent. He’s officially a best selling author. They have friends in common. They have family in common. But they have lives. As individuals, walking through this earth, without clinging to one another for survival. 

“This is good, Jug. I can feel it.” She tells him one night over the phone. 

He agrees and they say goodnight and he doesn’t feel a gaping hole in his chest when the call ends. He feels hope. 

•

“You look better.” Terry notes when she sits down, their weekly lunch together becoming somewhat of a tradition.

“What, did I look like shit a few weeks ago?” Betty snorts. 

“No. You’re drop dead gorgeous, always but you did look miserable.” Her friends grins at her. “Seriously though, It’s good. I know we haven’t been friends for that long but I can see the difference.” Terry’s eyes soften and she thinks of how much she loves the feeling of being loved, of having friends that weren’t born in Riverdale, that hadn’t lived through what was sure to be the strangest situations anyone had ever been thrown at. Normal people with their own fuck ups, but murderless. It’s nice to regain a sense of normalcy when your normal had been a horror movie everyday. 

Betty smiles softly. “I do feel the difference. It’s like once the decision was made, I could finally do it and just accept things for what they are, not try to rush myself.” 

“Right on, babe.” Terry lifts her glass of wine, taking a sip. “You really love him.”

With a sigh, she looks away for a second. “I don’t think I can ever stop.” 

Terry smiles softly. “He loves you too.” 

“I know.” Betty nods. “It’s just that sometimes that’s not enough.” 

Terry sighs, nodding. “Ain’t that the universal truth.” 

Her brows furrows and she feels a sense of kinship. That she’s not alone in feeling like she does, that people don’t need tragedies to feel like her. The universal truth that love isn’t enough, that it’s essencial but there’s more to relationships, more to people than just loving them. Terry’s right. The universal truth. Everyone’s along for the ride. 

•

In a very misguided attempt to explain things to her mother, Betty tells her that they definitely had sex multiple times in a sort of word vomit sort of way and that perhaps she might be a little bit of a hot mess. The whole conversation lasts about 5 minutes of Betty explaining just what happened and what she felt. It’s been five months and she finds that really she’s feeling a little more and more like herself and when her mother asks, she decides to not hold back because she’s no longer embarrassed of her feelings. 

“You’re both hot messes.” Alive scoffs on the phone that night. “You two make everything so complicated. You know, I wasted enough time with FP to know that sometimes you just have to work through things together.” 

“Mom.” Betty warns. “I’ve explained it all to you.” 

“Yes and I understand but it seems to me that you’re very sure of what the problems are, you’re very sure of the fact that sometimes you don’t value yourself enough so how about you just fight through that instinct together. You both clearly want to be with each other.” 

“It’s not about that.” Betty argues. “We just need to live life independently.”

“Honey, haven’t you been doing it? Hasn’t it been months since you decided to pull away?” 

Betty quiets for a second. Sure, she understands what her mother is saying but as much as she wants to, it still feels too soon. It’s clear they’re both doing better by themselves and she obviously misses him, but maybe it’s too much of a risk to get back into the swing of things. 

“I’m not saying ‘get married’, just take another step towards getting back together.” Alice sighs softly. “To think that once I didn’t want you dating that boy and now I’m pushing for it.”

Betty laughs softly. “A lot’s changed since then.”

“It has. But not everything. You still love each other. I think that’s worth the shot.” She tells her. “You’re stronger than you think, Elizabeth.” 

Betty lets out a soft sigh. “Thanks, mom.” Once upon a time, she thought she’d eventually cut her mother out of her life completely, now the past feels like a fever dream. Every moment of it, except their moments. Except their love story. 

So she goes on, whispers ‘I love you’ to her mother and sits on her couch, mulling over it, finally deciding to text him. 

‘ You up for an intense game of scrabble?’  She sends. 

‘ Only if you promise not to bring up the last time we played.’  A smile comes across her lips. She had very clearly kicked his ass, last time. Bestseller author lost scrabble and she had done a wonderful job at mocking him for it. 

Twenty minutes later, he’s ringing her doorbell. When she goes to open it, he’s smiling. “I brought wine.” He says and she lets him give her a side hug, before getting in the apartment. His presence a welcome warmth in her home. “I will destroy you this time, that is a promise.” 

His grin promises a good game and they sit on her floor, scrabble laid out on the coffee table. The wine slowly makes it harder to play and funnier to witness. Jughead fumbles through his words, she can barely say anything without laughing. 

His laughter dies down, the game is finished, so is his glass of wine. A lazy smile is on his lips. “I really like you.” He murmurs. 

She thinks it’s the first time he’s ever said that. Like. She doesn’t know why that particular choice of words makes her stomach flutter but it does and she can only smile. Because she does like him, she likes him so much. She doesn’t just love him, but she likes him. And she wants to like him forever. For all that he is. 

“I really like you too, Jug.” 

His smile is a little wider and she feels a little drunk and tired and perhaps a little more sure of where to go next. 

•

At some point, every Tuesday, they start having lunch together. His editor isn’t far from the FBI headquarters and they haven’t let her venture out into the field for extended periods of time, so she’s almost always there, finding connections, making theories on what evidence there is.

And Jughead is with her and they’re friends and it feels like a nice next step to take. Keeping things simple and easy. He texts her asking her out to lunch and she says to hell with it and goes. 

There’s no pressure, surprisingly. She was expecting to feel nervous, but she finds her muscle memory tendency is to relax around him, he’s safe. Jughead means safety and for those years she felt too panicked to even call, this is what feels right. It’s just him and she loves him deeply and he knows her like nobody has ever known her. 

“Are you working on the Harlem Butcher case?” 

“Is that the name they’re giving her?” Betty chuckles. 

“It’s a woman?” 

“We think so, yes.” She nods. “Though that is confidencial.” She smirks, not being able to help herself, seeing how intrigued he becomes. “Why do you ask?” 

“The whole story surrounding it makes me wanna write it.” 

Betty pauses for a second, gauging the excited look on his face. “Really?” 

“I started writing it actually.” He confesses and she laughs softly. “I wanna see how it plays out. However, I may have sort of tried to weasel in the investigation.” 

“I’m sorry?” 

“My publisher got freakishly excited about the idea of the story and she knows the mayor so...”

“So?” 

“I’m tagging along?” 

“What? Jughead!” She gasps. “You mean investigating?”

“Well, yes, kind of like a consultant? Your boss knows all about my past, well our past and has read the book.” 

“My boss has read the book?” She gapes. Her mind rewinds to every detail of his book and she remembers some descriptions he’d made of her, some intimate details, never too explicit but still, she doesn’t really love the fact that her boss knows so much. Until now, she had never thought of people she knew knowing the details of their love story, of all that it entailed. 

“I’ve been nervous to tell you because I didn’t want to cross any boundaries, I mean, we are staying apart, I guess, I don’t know-“ 

“Jug.” She places her hand on top of his on the table, he stops to look at her. “It’s okay.” 

“Is it?” 

“Yes.” She laughs softly. “Dream team, remember?” 

He smiles. “Dream team.” There’s a pause, she remembers how well they actually work together and it only makes her feel warmth. 

“So, should we jump in?” She smirks. 

They focus on the case. And it’s like a song playing perfectly all over again. They formulate theories that leave other agents amazed at how in sync they are. They bounce off of each other, as they had in Riverdale and it doesn’t bring any sad or negative feelings, there’s a rush. She’s missed this part of them. For so long, it was such a big part and now they’re into it again. Adrenaline cursing through them as they figure out the next step. At least now, they’re not fighting for their lives. They appreciate that distance. 

Suddenly, they’re hunched over case files, well into late hours, calling each other over clues and breakthroughs. They singlehanded make sure the case moves forward. 

And it does. 

Within a month, they’ve lined up connections between the victims. Patterns that may indicate how the killer chooses the victims, what motivates her. And Betty’s surprised at how it doesn’t trick her into old unwanted memories. It’s exciting to share this with him. The thrill of discovering clues and being right about them. At least now, they aren’t alone and don’t have to resort to...unethical solutions. Most times. Betty’s still figuring out what the limits are. There are lives at stake, but they’re removed from it. And it’s another way to connect with him. To get reacquainted with his mind just as he is with hers. Taking the old and transforming it. 

“It’s nice to not be fighting for our own lives.” Jughead nudges her, as they sit on the floor in the FBI, pizza next to them, a murder board in plain sight. 

She shrugs. “Fighting for others.” 

“No, I know that, I just...what I mean is,” He gulps. “It’s nice to share this...with you again.” He offers her a nervous smile. “Investigating. It was how it all started, right?” 

The ‘all’ he means is them, it’s how they began. Getting closer while investigating the death of Jason Blossom, the town’s darling boy. All those sweet innocent moments in between all the rotten things, the moments of clarity in between all the haziness. The beginning, perhaps simpler or perhaps they were just naive and too young to really grasp how intricate and complex the world really was. Her first love, she had fallen for him so completely it made everything she ever felt so pedestrian, so trivial. He understood her in a way she thinks only soulmates know each other. If there ever was such a thing, she and Jughead fit the requirements. 

Sometimes, she feels like their love is bigger than them and then she reads a beautiful love poem, or a song and thinks that she isn’t alone in the greatness of her feelings. People feel like her and her and Jughead aren’t greater than themselves. They’re people, who somehow can’t let go of each other and she’s been coming to the thought that maybe they don’t have to. Maybe they can hold on. 

“Jug.” She places her hand on his when she notices he’s fidgeting. Smiling softly, she brings it to her lips, pressing a kiss to his skin. She notices how his breath hitches, she wonders if her feelings are the same as his. And when his eyes cross hers, she knows they are. 

Jughead moves carefully. She doesn’t ever remember him moving as cautiously, as gently. But his hand, moments ago against her lips, now brushes her cheek, a loose strand of hair placed delicately behind her cheek. 

She’s not sure how long it passes. His eyes are different, as if the love is a little clearer, as if he can finally see her again. She expects him to kiss her mouth but he doesn’t, his lips kiss her cheek. And she closes her eyes. Somehow, it all feels so much more intimate than anything ever has. 

When the moment ends and he moves back to look at her, she thinks she can see him now too. All that he is, all that he was and all that he will be. A moment, a second, a minute plays out and there’s an understanding, a silent decision made and there is no question in the words she speaks. 

“Walk me home?” 

Let’s start over. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally managed to write this!! Here it is, hope you like it! Tell me what you think!


	8. Our Coming of Age has Come and Gone

She kisses him for the first time in months, in the manner of a promise, after their first real date. She logs it in as their first date because for the life of her, she doesn’t ever remember them having a first date when they started dating. Too much death, deep in investigating. This, though, this is different. So, she notes that it’s their first real date. 

He adorably asks her out, having walked her home, the day their eyes sold a new promise, tentatively taking her hand in his. 

“Also...” He gulps. 

“What?” She questions, searching his face. “What?” She smiles, repeating when he doesn’t answer. 

“Will you go on a date with me?” She can’t tell he’s nervous and that makes it much harder to ever say no. But she finds that she doesn’t want to say no, it doesn’t make much sense to her to say no when it’s all she really wants, when it feels right. For the first time in months, there’s no wall between them, there’s this calmness she hasn’t felt around him for a long time. 

She’s not nervous when the day comes. She goes to work, there’s a bunch of paperwork to fill and Jughead isn’t in, he has a meeting with his publisher, but all she can really think about is their date, their mundane, just like everyone else’s, date. She’s excited. This first step feels like they’re truly turning a page on their love story. A new beginning. 

Jughead brings her flowers. He smiles at her charmingly, wearing a button up white shirt that makes her feel lucky she gets to have him again and they walk to the restaurant, Jughead taking her hand in his. The warmth it provides gives her a feeling she’s missed in her life, it’s a glimmer of happiness. The same happiness she felt with him in the past but different, perhaps clearer, she thinks. They’ve grown from who they used to be and their love has grown, beyond the limits of what they deemed possible. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” He questions, laughing softly, taking a sip of his wine. 

“I like this.” She shrugs. “This is nice.” 

He smiles. “I know.” He reaches for her hand across the table. “I want to do this right.” 

“You are, Jug.” She reassures him. “We are.” 

It’s a nice dinner. It feels effortless. She thinks that’s her favourite part, that there’s no weight of anything, no pressure. It’s just them, having dinner, talking about everything and nothing. It feels like before but something else altogether. She’s filled a newfound hope that everything will truly work out this time. Maybe the universe is done with the game they’ve been playing, maybe now is the right time. It certainly feels just like it. 

So she kisses him. And he kisses her back, with no rush, with time on their side, his hands on her cheeks. His lips are warm, even in the soft breeze, it’s as though they can finally speak, understand it a lot more clearly now. It’s not like the desperation from months ago and it isn’t like Riverdale, it’s new and familiar at the same time, like maybe, they’re speaking the same language for the first time. 

Betty curses the need to breathe. If she could, she’d stay like this for a while. But they pull away and Jughead is grinning at her and she thinks maybe she could stay just admiring that look on his face. Perhaps, she supposes, she just wants to stay with him, in any way they decide. 

Jughead grin fades for a second and a pensive stare crosses his face. His hand caresses her cheek. “I’m sorry for everything that happened to you. And to us.” He pauses. “Everything I put you through.” 

She shakes her head. “We both hurt each other, but that’s over now.” She says. “Clean slate from now on.” 

“Is this what dating is like?” He jokes, with a laugh. “Nice dinners and no death threats at every corner?” 

With a chuckle, she pecks his lips. “Well, I like us like this.” She shrugs. “This was a great night.” 

“Yeah? Enough to score second date?” He teases. 

“I’ll have to think about it.” She says mockingly and he grins. “I think we’re good on that front. Going steady.” He kisses her again, and she’s smiling through the kiss. 

“I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?” She nods and he places his lips on her forehead“I really don’t want to walk away.” He confesses. “But going steady, right?” 

“Right.” She nods. “Go, Jug. We’ll talk tomorrow.” 

“Yeah, okay. Bye.” With one last brush of his lips against hers, he walks backwards, away from her. “Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow.” 

She watches him walk away, walking towards the subway near her place. Her phone rings before she has a chance to place her key in the lock to open the door. And it’s Jughead. 

“I got ahead of myself. Is it tomorrow, yet?” 

She snorts, rolling her eyes. “You’re so lame.” She shakes her head watching him laugh a few feet away. 

“I’m aware that people aren’t usually this forward, but can we please go play some scrabble before I go?” 

She sighs, smiling. “Fuck it. Come on.”

•

It’s quite easy to fall into a rhythm together. Step by step. It’s a little like the rhythm they’d fallen into when their friendship became the priority. Except now, now they can touch other without holding themselves back. They can be as close as they desire with no boundaries. If Betty’s honest, it’s hard to hold herself back now that’s he’s decided she can have him. 

They have sex the next day. After their date. Jughead ends up staying the night and they fall asleep on her couch, wine drunk, with a scoreboard on the coffee table and arms around each other. The next day brings a day free of any obligations and neither of them are willing to go their separate ways. When they wake up, Jughead is hungry, she is too but as always, his hunger is unparalleled which brought them to the kitchen. 

“Pancakes.” Jughead grins. “Blueberry?” 

“No. Absolutely not.” 

He groans. “Fine. Chocolate chip? Do you even have it?” He opens her cabinets, rummaging around for ingredients. 

“You know, you’re really not exhibiting first date behaviour, Jug.” She teases. 

“I’m not myself when I’m hungry.” He smirks and walks to her. When he’s standing in front of her, he places his hands on her hips, guiding her to him. Leaning down, Jughead presses his lips against her, kissing her. She’s the one who deepens the kiss and he doesn’t complain, following her lead. 

“Hungry, huh?” Betty teases, between kisses. 

“You know me.” He smiles against her mouth. She laughs softly before melting into the kiss. He pulls her against him, kissing her a little more passionately than before. Neither of them are holding themselves back anymore, it seems. It holds the same fire within her as he always has. “Do you want to stop?” He breathes out, pulling a way for a second. 

“I don’t.” She murmurs, pecking his lips. “Not at all.” With a smile, he picks her up off the floor and clumsily, as they laugh between kisses, he manages to get them to the bedroom. “Jug,” She calls out, her voice barely a whisper as he places kisses down her neck. He pauses for a second to look up at her. 

“You ok?” Her hand caresses his face for a moment. 

“I want this. Us. For real.” She confesses and he smiles softly. There’s something about the way she says it that carries more weight than much else they’ve said to each other. It’s her choice to be vulnerable, to let go of fears and truly pursue them. 

“Us.” He nods and doesn’t take his eyes off of her as he travels down her body. “I’ve missed that.” 

Every moment feels more intimate than she thinks they’ve ever been, as if finally they can take each other in and feel every touch and every breath and every glance with no fear of what comes next. There’s a certain familiarity that comes along, resurfaces as it always does when it comes to him and a newfound trust and security with it too. She loses herself, allows it to happen, to fall blindly into him as he makes love to her. First with his mouth, the gentle way he cares for her reminds her of their beginning but now with the knowledge of what she likes, what gets a reaction out of her, a lot more secure than when they were sixteen. He takes his time and she gets desperate for him, to have him closer than this. Every moment, she edges further and all she really wants is him, just him. 

The moment he sinks into her, his body flush against hers is a moment she registers in her memory. All those months ago, when they had sex for the first time in years, it hadn’t felt this way. Back then, it had been desperate, sometimes even transactional the way they’d given into each other. This, though, feels more like love, she supposes. Because there’s no other way to feel it, to live through it and really live it with no doubts, no second guesses. 

He picks up the pace, bringing her arms over her head and interlocking their fingers together as they find their rhythm, her breathing ragged, soft moans dropping from her lips as he thrusts into her. 

“Fuck.” He grunts into her neck. “Betts.” He moans. The way her name sounds on his lips brings her closer to the tipping point. She’s always liked it when he’s vocal, when he praises her, murmuring into her ear as they make love. “You’re everything.” He breathes out as lifts himself up to look at her. “Beautiful.” He presses his lips to her. 

“Jug,” He knows she’s close, it’s in his eyes, the recognition of certain things that haven’t changed completely, the fact that he still knows her brings her comfort. A safety net that maybe they were always meant to come back to each other, always meant to love each other. 

His thrusts get frantic, his moans louder merging with hers as they get closer. It’s so much more than a release, when it happens, she thinks, this, being here, in this moment and only see him, only feel him. It’s a moment of pure unadulterated energy between them, like the force field that always held them now laid exposed and they see every thread and how they keep choosing to follow it down to its very end. It seems that no matter what happens, they choose each other. 

“You’re staring. “ She laughs softly, noticing his gaze on her face. They’re in the shower now, he’s washed her hair, loving her in different ways. So much so that she can see it in his eyes. 

“You look happy.” He murmurs, placing his forehead on hers. “And I want to make you happy.” 

“Jug...” She breathes out. 

Pulling back a little, he caresses her cheek gently, looking at her and really looking, like he hasn’t in a while. “I love you, Betty Cooper. And I want you.” He kisses each of her cheeks. “I want you for as long as you’ll have me.” 

Betty swallows the lump in her throat. “Jug...you have no idea.” 

“Perhaps I do.” He laughs softly. “Perhaps I know all about it. And so do you.” 

•

“Do you feel safe?” Jughead murmurs. “Going in tomorrow?”

Betty furrows her brows, looking at him through the mirror as he stands in the bathroom’s doorway. She’s doing her skincare routine, getting ready for bed and Jughead, as it had happened for probably way too many times for the past month since their decision to chase after what they have, is staying the night. 

“It’s my job.” She answers simply. “Why? Do you not feel safe?”

He shakes his head, taking a few steps towards her, wrapping his arms around her from behind, looking at their figure in the mirror. “It’s not that. I just…you haven’t been in the field since…you got shot.”

“I have been-“

“Not when it’s a sure thing.”

“Jug…” She frowns. “What is this about?”

He sighs softly, burying his face in her shoulder. “I just…worry about you, that’s all.” She turns in his arms, forcing him to look at her, her expression morphing into one of confusion and worry. “I feel like in Riverdale, we were often too reckless, and we stopped at nothing and most times, we went too far, and we put ourselves in the line of fire and all of that. We were kids and we did the right thing, but it could’ve gone sideways every time, you know?”

She places a hand on his cheek. “I know that.”

“Just…it’s your job and I know that and you’re brilliant at it. Because you care about the truth and putting a stop to whatever is hurting others. That same instinct you have, has always been the same so I know you’re going to do whatever it takes, every time, even if your superiors have told you otherwise or you have to wait for a warrant or whatever. There’s no way to shut that down. And I know you’re strong enough and you can protect yourself and protect me too but…”

“Jug…” She caresses his face, looking into his eyes and how open he’s being. It’s new look, maybe one she hasn’t seen, ever. Maybe this is them entering a new stage that she’d never understood or was mature enough to deem it possible. 

“Betty, I want a future with you.” He breathes out, smiling a nervous smile. “I don’t really care if that’s too soon to say and I know we used to talk about a future when we were seventeen, but I want to say it now and my therapist says I need to communicate with you and that means, telling you everything.” He huffs out a soft laugh and she smiles. “I want to tell you exactly how I feel and how I feel is…terrified. Of losing you, ever. So, just…be selfish sometimes and come home to me. Every day, if you can.” 

Placing her forehead on his, she closes her eyes, exhaling. “I’ll do my best. I promise. I’ll come home to you.”

“At least, I’ll be with you this time.” 

She laughs. “It’s my turn to tell you that I also want a future with you and that you are not a trained agent, so whatever you do, stay in the car.” 

“Understood, Agent Cooper.” He smirks, bringing her close so he can kiss the smile off her lips. “I do mean it. The future thing.” He tells her quietly, when they pull away. “I know we’ve only been back together for a month but I mean it. I know I always had this thing, where I thought you were too good for me and I just-“

“Wait, what?” 

“What?” 

“You’ve never told me that.” She furrows her brows. “You thought I was too good for you?”He gulps, sighing softly and Betty watches his face. “Jug...” 

“Right, okay, so yes.” He shrugs with a laugh. “I mean I told you I had a crush on you for most of my life as a weird lanky kid. I guess when we got closer and eventually started dating, it felt like all those childhood dreams come true and I had this image of you and that girl would never end up with a guy like me.” 

“That’s...Jug, why did we never talk about this? I thought that we were on the same page and I could never understand why I didn’t see it sooner. That we fit, you know?” 

“No, I know that. It’s just I was insecure about my own self worth and then everything else about my parents and then me being on the Southside. And a part of me always thought that a Northside girl with a seemingly perfect life wouldn’t want to be with the loner kid who sat in the corner of the room. In my mind, what I’m trying to say is that I was always a secondary character and you were in the main stage, you know?” 

“I never knew you felt like that.” She frowns. “To me, you were always the one person who understood me, back then.” 

His voice is below a murmur when he tries to explain it. “I think that as much as we had to grow up in such a short period of time, we were still kids. And maybe we clung to each other because it was survival. And it doesn’t mean we didn’t love each other, just that maybe under different circumstances, it wouldn’t have been this all-encompassing thing. It would’ve been like any other teenage couple whose love was real.” He shrugs. And she pauses. 

He’s right, maybe they were too young to have an understanding of all that their love entailed, all that it meant, especially when they were both so defined by their traumas, so caught up in the tightrope that was every minute in Riverdale. 

“Maybe we know more of a side of love that is darker, heavier, you’re right.” Betty whispers. “We get a second chance to figure out, though. The uncharted waters.” She smiles softly. “There’s a lot of road to walk on.” 

He caresses her cheek, gently grazing his finger across her skin. “We really thought we knew everything, huh?” 

With a laugh, Betty shrugs. “Those kids knew something. And they sure loved the hell out of each other, we just have to learn to love a little softer this time around.” 

“What a wild concept, huh? Feel completely but softer.” She smiles up at him. 

With another kiss to her lips, he beckons her to come to bed, ready for a new day, to fall asleep next to him, with as much promise as their first kiss held. 

•

She fixes his hair, laughing, as the elevator reaches the floor they’d chosen. “Do you ever brush your hair before you get out of the house?” 

He snorts. “I’ll have you know that my beanieless life is still a challenge and it,” he points up. “Does what it wants and I’m nothing but its carrier.” 

“Could always knit you a new one.” Betty smiles tenderly, a hand on his chest. “But I do prefer you without it.” She winks. 

“I can do without it.” He grins. “You ready for the party?” 

“You mean for our highly excitable friends to have the confirmation we’re together, even though it’s been a month and a half?” 

“Whose idea was it to keep it to ourselves?” He teases, poking her sides and she laughs. She is glad they did, in the end. Having the time to themselves to really figure out how to go forward. The only one who she told was Veronica and she had been so gentle and kind in the way she responded. Beaming with happiness for them, that they were finally in a good place to really restart their relationship. 

“Mine and I’m glad we did.” She tells him. The elevator reaches the floor and she smiles at him. “Shall we?” 

“I’m with you.” He nods with a grin, taking her hand in his as they walk out of the elevator. 

As they turn left towards Terry’s door, cheers erupt, the door is wide open and their friends are waiting expectantly for them and the reaction at them arriving, holding hands nonetheless causes an uproar. They laugh as they get bombarded. Terry reaches her first, pulling her into a hug, before the rest of them take them on. 

“We all knew, you dirty bastards.” Terry laughs loudly. “Let’s celebrate you two not boring us to death with longing stares!” 

“Longing stares?” Betty raises an eyebrow, a playful look on her face. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Jughead wraps an arm around her waist, pulling her closer so he can press a kiss to the side of her hair. 

“Look at you two all happy, it’s disgusting.” Terry gags jokingly as they walk back inside the apartment. 

Inside, chatter begins to contaminate the scene and they’re caught up in conversations. Jughead keeps a hand on her most time, as if to say they’re really at this point together. In a happy relationship and no murder knocking at the door, unless it was work. 

Jughead is sucked into a conversation about some game she doesn’t have much interest in apart from taking note of it for future Christmases and birthdays, and spots Terry on the fire escape, having a smoke by herself so she takes her wine glass, squeezes Jughead’s thigh and goes outside to her friend. 

“Hey there, babe.” Terry grins, puffing out a cloud of smoke, as Betty sits next to her. 

“Hi, you.” She murmurs back. The sounds of the city below are ever loud but it feels quiet, to be here, her mind is quiet and that’s something that a few months ago she wouldn’t have believed to be possible. 

“How’s everything? Feel like you two have so into murderers we’ve barely talked.” 

Betty laughs softly. “That’s partly my fault, I wanted us to have some time for ourselves.” 

“No, I get it. The whole bunch can be overwhelming, especially when it comes to something so delicate. And I figured when you two disappeared together, you know...” She nudges her with a smirk drawn on her lips. “You happy?” 

“I don’t think I’ve been this happy in years. Lighter, I guess.” 

“That’s good.” Terry nods. “I hated seeing you both like that.” 

“Were we really that miserable?” Betty jokes. 

Terry laughs. “Yeah, it was almost painful to watch.” 

Betty supposes she’s right. They were pretty fucking miserable and now it feels as though a weight’s been lifted off her chest and she can finally breathe again. And she feels that the tides have changed, that they’ve grown up and grown past what brought them down and now they just needed to keep living and to keep loving each other. 

Jughead smiles at her from where he’s sitting and it brings her warmth, as though in any room, any place, she could find his eyes and they’d ground her. He had once called her his anchor and for some time they’d both been adrift and she’d been at the bottom of the ocean, in the dark. Now they’ve grown up. Now they were both anchored down, there was something so comforting in knowing there’s one person to always lean on. To know that the promises of a brighter future were real and that they would work it out, no matter what. 

“That man is so stupidly in love with you.” Terry murmurs with a soft smile, following her eye-line to Jughead. “Let me plan your bachelorette party, will ya?” 

“In its due time, T.” Betty says. 

“I love this confidence.” Terry cheers. “I promise I will cry like a baby at your wedding. It will not look pretty.” 

Betty laughs, quieting down as she looks at the enthusiastic way Jughead is speaking inside the apartment. And she doesn’t have to try very hard to imagine a life beside him. She thinks the image has never been clearer. After so many months of jumbled mess and dark sentences, all she sees is frame just like this. A warm evening, a smile on his face and a promise of home at the end of the night. 

It’s like relearning to love him without fear. It’s learning to love without reservations or heartbreak. It’s their history and the story of their lives and then something new and pure and real. It’s still their love but a little stronger and wiser. Their hearts a little worn out from the cracks but still them. 

And she swears, it’s as if that future he talked about, they’re living it. Day to day. Moment to moment. And she sees it so perfectly. Sees him so perfectly, feels his touch like the warmth of a fire on a snowy day, the light on her face, warming her cheek as she sits and reels in it. She feels every bone in her body settle at the thought of him. In a world so full of noise, a mind like hers, often loud, quiets with him. 

From the outside looking in, by the window, she sees him. And she sees herself. And maybe one day, maybe soon, they can look out their own window at the city, with the knowledge that every dent in the armor they had once built for themselves, never mattered enough to define them. That the choice to move forward, the choice to not follow their fears down to the wire is a permanently shifting balance. And that they have the ability, despite all the hands life had dealt them, to choose love and to choose the warmth of a fireplace or even the warmth of a tear on a cheek. And the knowledge that everyday, they choose each other. 

And that’s a whole lot stronger than fate. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That took so long to write and I’m not entirely happy about it but I need to get it out lol 
> 
> Tell me what you think xx 
> 
> Ps: the next chapter will be an epilogue-ish

**Author's Note:**

> Hiya! Here is the sequel some of you requested! I’ve decided to make this a multi chapter! Hope you like it! It’s a small start, but I wanted to end there! 
> 
> Tell me what you think xx


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